To Question Fate
by jadedpisces
Summary: Voldemort has one final trick up his sleeve, and Snape is unlucky enough to become involved with the one woman that knows the plan. Will Voldemort succeed or will Snape have the last laugh? Post-DH, ignores Epilogue and other certain facts.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: A Familiar Face

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter Universe; that honor belongs to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. I thank them for the inspiration, however. Also, this story contains sexual and other adult themes, hence the M rating. To those that read my previous version of To Question Fate, there is no new content, just some major editing.

The war had ended, she could feel it. The tension in the air had dissipated days ago, and the pulse of the magic that coursed through her being had since slowed and steadied. Her father was dead. Had he survived, he would have returned home by now. She felt no sadness for his loss, however, as she had mourned him years ago. To her, he died the day he took up the Death Eater's cause, but she had murdered his memory the day he had made her a prisoner of her own home. She knew in the beginning her father's reasons were noble; to protect his family from harm by joining those that would target them. Unfortunately, it didn't take long for the corrupting nature of power and fear to take hold of her father's soul.

Part of her was glad he was gone, but it was bittersweet for now she was officially alone. A tear escaped her eyes as she thought of the brutal demise of her mother at the hands of the Death Eaters. They did not care about her incredible ability as a healer, her deep knowledge of the ancient magical ways, or even about her desperate pleas for mercy. Even the sickened cries of her father did not stop her painful, tortured death. They only cared that the blood that ran through her veins was not as pure as the ancient wizard bloodline she had married into. She was murdered simply for existing.

Ophelia shook her head trying to push away those dark, painful memories, and then suddenly, she stood up from her position beneath the willow beside the creek that wound through her family's property as an incredible thought occurred to her. She started a quick walk towards the distant fence line. _Could I finally be free?_ Her mind raced, and her walk became a jog as if trying to compete with her thoughts. For a moment, she thought about the pleasant sensations of the breeze in her hair and the sun on her features as she jogged. It had been ages since she had felt any emotion that had even a resemblance to pleasure. Her joys were quickly stolen from her as she felt the magical bindings around her limbs tighten.

She continued her pace, however, as the fence line moved ever closer. She felt the heavy magical weight come over her, but still she struggled to move closer to the fence that was now less than a meter from her grasping fingertips. She pushed forward hoping to break through the magic that contained her. She desperately prayed now that the maker of her prison was dead, that she would finally be free. This hope was only fleeting as a searing pain like her entrails were being squeezed by fiery hands cut through her gut. She dropped to her knees and cried out in agony as she reached out for the fence. Her fingertips skimmed the rough surface of the wood. She continued her struggle for an instant longer hoping the spell would break. Finally, once she could take no more pain she turned over herself and fell to the ground panting as the pain released her. As he breathing slowed she cursed under her breath. _How dare he cast such magic! How dare he not even free me after his death! _

"BASTARD!" She screamed as loud as her underused voice would allow, her fists clenched tight with rage. She could feel the magical pulse swell within her longing for sweet release, making her even more furious.

It was then that she saw it, a dark form lying in the field off to her right. It groaned softly, and Ophelia suddenly realized it was human. She crawled the short distance towards the form guardedly as her she glanced quickly around her anxiously. She could smell the distinct scent of burnt flesh and days old sweat. It was a man dressed in black robes that were tattered and caked with mud. His body moved up and down slightly with his rapid, shallow breaths. Her senses heightened as the healer within her recognized this man was near death.

She slowly reached out and touched the dark hair of the strange man. He did not move. She cautiously moved a strand of the hair from his cheek to partially reveal his face. He was laying facedown in the grass, but she searched his features slowly. It had been months since she had associated with anyone. Her father had come and gone on occasion, but she had always stayed hidden as he was rarely alone.

Somehow, this man looked strangely familiar to her. She searched her memory for a connection to the pale face, sunken features, hard jaw line, and defined, hooked nose, but it was in vain. He looked gravely ill. She reached her hand to his forehead and found it burned with fever, and his brow was clammy with sweat.

She glanced around her again at their surroundings. The Forbidden Forest loomed just past the fence line. A shiver rushed down her spine. She feared this man on a primitive level, but she reached for his wrist to feel his pulse anyway. Her eyes narrowed as she saw it, or at least what remained of it - the Dark Mark. Hatred boiled within her as she prepared to stand up and leave this traitor for death.

She stopped when her eyes fell upon the smooth dark polish of the man's wand poking out from beneath the filthy robes. Her eyes then widened as she reached her hand down to the Earth and slowly slid her fingers towards it. She held her breath as she grasped its handle from beneath the Death Eater's body.

He still did not move as she tightened her grip and slid the wand towards her. She could feel the tingle of its power in her fingertips. She smiled slightly as she studied the wooden shaft. Then she closed her eyes momentarily to revel in the feeling of it against her palm. Her own wand had been ripped from her hands and broken in half upon her father's knee over four years ago. She remembered in sickening detail the image of the unicorn hair falling limply to the ground as her mother sobbed in the background. Her dreams of studying medicinal magical were thus shattered as she had no hope of escaping her captivity.

Ophelia opened her eyes and took a deep breath as she ran her fingers down the wand, caressing it. She felt her own power reaching out for the wand, screaming for release. Her heart rate quickened as her mind raced through countless incantations that she had been longing to speak.

While no longer in school, she had never discontinued her studies. To pass her time in her imprisonment she had spent countless hours in her father's vast library reading every book he owned as well as her mother's healer texts. Her magical and healing knowledge was broad, but her skills were mostly untested. She glanced at the dark figure beside her, shaking away the strange feeling of familiarity. She knew she would likely have to wait for his death before this beautiful wand would yield to her control, but her impatience bubbled. This wand may be the key she needed to escape her captivity. She glanced again at the fence line cursing her father.

She flicked the wand in the air in front of her mimicking the movements from her old lessons at Hogwarts. The wand looked incredibly graceful as it flourished with each flick of her wrist. She smiled, admiring its beauty as it danced.

Unexpectedly, she felt an icy grip around her neck, and the wand burned icy hot in her palm. She dropped it as her body was forced painfully to the ground. The dark figure loomed over her, one hand to her throat, the other reached for the wand. She struggled frantically, but only for an instant as her eyes fixed on those piercing, cold, black eyes burning above her. Her eyes opened wide with sudden recognition. "Professor Snape?!" she croaked.

The icy pale hand released its grip on her neck, and in an instant, she shoved the cloaked figure from her and stood to run straight towards the fence line at full speed. Fear possessed her and clouded her judgment until the gut wrenching pain brought her back to her knees as she screamed.

Ophelia again crawled away from the fence line until the pain ceased, and she glanced back in the direction from which she had come. The man had collapsed again, this time onto his back and was panting as he stared in her direction with a look of confusion plastered on his sunken pale visage.

It was then that she noticed the blisters developing on her palm and fingertips. She stared at them for a long moment and then back at her former potions professor, with his hand clutching his wand against his chest. She stood up slowly, feeling weak from the weight of her invisible shackles. She approached the frail, cloaked form apprehensively and felt herself cringe in expectation as he gripped the wand tighter to his chest.

She wanted to turn her back on him as the hatred for the Death Eaters ate away at her psyche, but that disdain was not enough to conquer the yearning for company, the hope at freedom, and a knowing suspicion that this man was not as he seemed.

She cleared her throat as she approached and those dark eyes struck her with a look of despair and hopelessness. Her intuition sensed that he was giving up on his existence. She could sense it in the power that emanated from him as his eyes glazed over, and his focus moved beyond her. "Sir…" she whispered. His piercing gaze returned to her face. "Sir, let me help you!" Her voice was demanding, but her eyes were pleading.

"Go!" He croaked back. "You are a foolish child. Leave me to death." His face then turned away from her to look back towards the Forest.

Ophelia smiled weakly. "Ironic indeed, Professor. Come to the home of one of Great Britain's greatest healers and beg for death." His face turned towards her again, and she could tell that he was searching his memory for some lost piece of information. She used the opportunity to bridge the last few meters that still existed between them and knelt in the soft grass beside him.

"Please, Sir." She placed her hand on his as it lay limply in the grass. He did not pull away but studied her features as if trying to read her thoughts. She shivered. She then grasped his hand and placed her other hand on his shoulder attempting to sit him up. Slowly she broke through his resistance as he flexed forward.

Despite her small frame, she was strong, and she stood bringing her patient to his feet. She placed one of his arms around her shoulders, and they made the trek back to the cottage on the hill ahead in silence.

They finally reached the doorway next to which a sign read "Doctor Dyson. Please ring bell for service." An ancient rune was carved into the doorway indicating the presence of a healer. It was then that Ophelia felt the man stop and stare at her with empty eyes, "You are Gwendolyn's daughter…" She nodded and tried to lead him over the threshold, but he resisted. "Your father is dead…"

She paused, took a deep breath, and nodded slightly in acknowledgement, but continued to maneuver them both into the cottage. This time the weak man draped over her shoulders obliged, and she led him to the first bed in a row of many in an infirmary room just off of the kitchen. He flopped limply onto the mattress as she pulled his legs into place and removed his boots.

"Do not waste any more of your energy, Miss Dyson. I am hardly worth the effort," he hissed at her. Ophelia was reminded of Potions classes suddenly, and her heart ached as she longed for the days of Hogwarts. She wondered if it still stood tall in the distance past the forest that bordered her land.

She leaned down towards him, mustering as much defiance in her look as she could manage towards her former professor. "Death is not a service we offer here, Professor. I am afraid you will have to request something else," she said softly to him as she smiled grateful for the relief of company. With that she hurried from the room leaving her newest patient staring daggers into her backside. She could almost feel the stinging pain.

Once in the other room Ophelia wrapped her blistered palm with a bandage over some herbal antiseptic and quickly set to work mixing a Restorative Potion. There was a flurry of activity as she measured, chopped, boiled, and stirred. A toxic smelling fume soon rose from her cauldron. She smiled approvingly as she dipped a mug into her steaming potion and stirred in some willow bark to fight against fever. It was not the most potent potion she was capable of, but considering her lack of wand and limited ingredient supply, she was quite proud of it.

She brought the steaming mug to her patient and brought it to his lips urging him to drink. He turned his face away and pushed the mug from her hands causing it to shatter into pieces on the stone floor. She cursed under her breath, trying to keep her frustration from becoming apparent.

"Leave me be!" He commanded in a threatening tone as his grip tightened around his wand.

She stormed from the room but soon returned with another mug in hand. She stepped into his field of view. "Drink," she ordered. He turned his head away again. "Dammit, Old Man, Drink!" She shoved the mug into his hand and forced it towards his mouth. This time she did not attempt to conceal her frustration. He looked into her eyes as if he sensed her selfish motives.

"You obviously did not inherit your mother's bedside manner…" He said softly but still maintained the distinct disdainful tone that Ophelia has once been quite familiar with. She smiled softly as he sat up against the wall and sipped from the mug with an angry gleam in his eyes.

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Snape stared at the woman standing before him. Even in his weakened state his curiosity was peaked as to why she was so insistent that he continue his miserable existence. Had he been stronger he may have been tempted to delve into her thoughts. Even without Legilimency, however, he sensed a strange power within her which only intensified his curiosity. There was something unique about this lovely young witch, and he could sense she wanted something from him.

He sipped the wretched concoction from the mug. While is tasted even worse then it smelled, the Potions Master found himself momentarily impressed with the complexity of the brew. He immediately felt the effects as his chilling fever seemed to drip from his being onto the floor as he was warmed from the inside out, and his aching muscles pulsed slightly with renewed vigor. But his appreciation did not last long. _Even a baboon can follow a recipe, _he thought as he remembered that this girl's mother had been a well known and talented healer.

His former student stared at him intently. He gave her a disapproving glare as he continued to sip from the mug. She stood there, hands on her hips, which had the effect of pulling her robes close to her rather shapely frame. He continued to study her features, eyes harsh. She stared back with equal intensity.

She had a slender build which was currently covered with faded, worn, emerald-colored robes. He glanced at her delicate hands set loosely on the curves of her hips, her right palm wrapped in bandages, and then his eyes followed the line of her arms up to her neckline. He recognized the talisman that hung around her neck as the sign of a healer. It bore the same rune as the one carved into the front door. He knew it had belonged to her mother; he remembered her wearing it in distant memories of his own times as a student at Hogwarts. The healing gift went back many generations in this family.

He took in the prominence of her collarbones and the way that the green robes hung from her shoulders. Up her slender neck, he observed the lines of her jaw and cheekbones under her creamy porcelain skin. A few dark freckles dotted across her features. They matched the nutmeg hair that tumbled loosely onto her shoulders. He avoided eye contact with the woman as he took another sip of her handiwork. She was very lovely, but there was more to her than that, and it made him uneasy. He could feel her curious eyes studying him and felt very vulnerable which caused him shift uncomfortably on the bed.

"What is it you want from me?" He snapped suddenly in a sharp, deep tone. He smiled inwardly as he noticed her jump in surprise. He caught her eyes as they shifted quickly down at the wand resting in his lap and then saw the fingers of her injured hand wrap into a loose fist against the bandages.

Now he was positive her motives were more than utter altruism. He noticed her squirm slightly under his stare. Again, he smiled to himself as he placed his wand back into his black robes. She was, after all, a former student.

Snape continued to stare at her finally making eye contact with her deep blue eyes. He had regained the upper hand just as he had desired. She continued to shift nervously. He held his stare, his eyes boring into hers until she finally broke the gaze. To his surprise, she took a step closer to the bed.

"Freedom, Sir…" she said softly as she rubbed her wrists gently. Her eyes were filled with pain. He could almost taste the desperation that oozed from her words. It made him nauseous.

He licked his lips slowly as the words rang in his ears. _Freedom – how ironic. I am possibly the least qualified individual in that regard, _he thought. He was about to retort her foolishness and tell her such a thing did not exist in this world. _We all owe someone for something._

He opened his mouth to speak his thoughts but then closed it again, taking a sip from the mug to hide his change in plans. At that moment, Snape realized that for the first time in his adult life he may actually be free himself. The Dark Mark on his arm no longer ached, and he could no longer sense the sinister grip of the Dark Lord on his soul.

He took a long slow breath completely aware of the inquisitive gaze of the girl never leaving his face. His tired mind could barely comprehend the meaning of the words he then spoke, "The war is over, Miss Dyson. The Dark Lord has been defeated." Another strange nauseating feeling came over him as a weight was lifted from his soul.

He realized then that that need to vomit may actually be a sense of peace settling in on him. That thought nauseated him further. He had never contemplated this moment as he had never intended to see it. He felt unprepared which in turn made him anxious. He despised these new feelings.

Ophelia nodded, "I've felt it in the air for days… and I've longed to join in the celebration…" She swallowed hard, and Snape sensed she was holding back a tear. His eyes narrowed as he looked her up and down hoping she would not cry in front of him. He hated tears. To his relief, she remained in control of her emotions. His thoughts then drifted.

He had escaped from the Shrieking Shack back under the Whomping Willow and into the Forbidden Forest after what was supposed to have been his last breath. Somehow he had survived, but his aching body told him that it was just barely. He heard the sounds of the battle ending behind him. There was nothing left for him to do now. Death would take him soon, he was sure of it, and he welcomed it.

He wandered weakly, his mind in a haze. His memory was unclear, but he must have been in the Forest for days until he emerged from the other side to see a hillside with a cottage nestled into its side. He recognized the place. He had been there once in the role of Death Eater.

The Dark Lord was ecstatic to learn of the wizard and his healer wife with a residence so near Hogwarts. His interest was further peaked with details of the couple's lovely daughter. He was eager to establish a Death Eater presence in such a strategic location, and his new human form needed the assistance of a capable healer, among other things. Snape had been amongst those that had threatened the wizard with harm to his family from behind their masks should he not choose to join them. It was a convincing argument.

Now was the first time he realized young Ophelia was that family he had threatened. She had graduated from Hogwarts that spring, but Snape had become so skilled at separating the two worlds that he never made the connection. He knew that the Death Eaters had killed her mother two years ago when she had refused to use her gift to heal several Death Eaters injured doing Voldemort's bidding at the Ministry of Magic. At that time, it was believed that her daughter had been sent to America to continue her studies. Clearly, that was false. Luckily for her, however, the rumors had been believed. He knew the Dark Lord had taken a special interest in the girl but never understood why.

He noticed Ophelia shift uncomfortably again under his glare. He now understood her strange behavior from earlier. He had heard her tortured screams. They had shook him from his wishful thoughts of death as he laid waiting and praying for his last breath to come soon. Had anyone else been around he would have thought the young witch had been struck by the Cruciatus curse.

His muscles tensed as he shuddered from the dark memories of his own experience with the Unforgivable. Now his mind correctly concluded that it was powerful magic that indeed tortured the girl, but magic that had been placed years ago to keep her from escaping to wherever it was she thought she could escape to.

"What is it that you believe I can offer you? And why do you believe I would even do so? Your meddling has only delayed a welcomed death. I owe you nothing." He watched her eyes for a reaction, and she obliged with another flash of desperation.

She swallowed hard. "I know for which side you fought… you must be very powerful indeed to fool the Dark Lord himself…" She paused, likely to judge his reaction to her words. He remained stoic, but she continued. "I know you must have the ability to break my bonds so that I too may be free of the Death Eater's grip."

Her soft pleas hit him like a lightening bolt as he wondered how much this girl knew. Was she a Legilimens? _Too young for such skill…_ He dismissed that thought. But how did she know so much?

To the rest of the world he would be known as the Death Eater that struck down the mighty Albus Dumbledore, a traitor of the worst kind. Could she really know the truth? Part of him ached desperately for the answer to be yes. If he was going to have the unfortunate luck of surviving this war, maybe this lovely witch would be his ticket to freedom as much as he would be hers. He swallowed hard as the thoughts turned his stomach.

She moved closer to the bed, her eyes still pleading with him. "This is not a bribe, Sir. Let me treat your injuries. The company alone is welcome. Even from a cantankerous, thorny, individual such as yourself." She reached a hand out for the mug that he held in his hands.

He could smell her earthy scent and now noticed a distinct Welsh accent in her voice. He gave the mug to her with a small nod, closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall as it throbbed. He heard the woman leave the room. He could not help but feel that Fate was playing a cruel joke at his expense. He had nothing left to live for.

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A/N: Love it or hate it, I would like to know. Leave me some feedback so I may improve. Have I at least caught enough of your attention to get you to read the next chapter? Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Dark Desires

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter Universe; that honor belongs to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. I thank them for the inspiration, however. Also, this story contains sexual and other adult themes, hence the M rating.

Once out of the room, Ophelia let out a deep sigh of relief. She could almost feel the ache of her bruised pride from having to beg the condescending wizard to rescue her "Such a damsel in distress," she hissed at herself. "Pathetic!" She hated the vulnerability she felt and even more, she hated that it was stemming from the same patronizing man that use to tear her confidence apart potion by potion for seven years of her life. She had always been poker-faced with him back then, but his mocking tone never failed to have its desired effect even if she never let it show. But he was a very powerful wizard, she had always known that fact, and she had admired his abilities even then. It was as though power oozed from every pore.

It was obvious that he never had a passion for teaching, but she never doubted his passion for potions or power. Despite his hostile teaching methods, she had learned a great deal from him. Her outstanding N.E.W.T. scores had lead to her acceptance into the magical healing apprenticeship at St. Mungo's, for which potions was held in strong regard. Unfortunately, she had never started the program.

She told herself in those days, that his harsh attitude and sharp tongue was a way of disguising his true talents. But he could not hide it from her, just like Dumbledore could not hide behind his jovial, impish qualities. She could sense it intuitively; she knew of their strength and deep powers without question. Her mother had told her it was part of being a good healer, appreciation of the strength of the spirit as well as the body.

She finally understood her meaning now, as the man in the other room had a physical body on the brink of failing, but his will was strong. If she could only get him to channel it towards healing and not begging for death, she knew his physical wounds would heal quickly and completely.

She filled a basin with warm water from the cauldron in the fireplace. She grabbed a clean rag and her mother's medical bag and walked back into the infirmary where her patient was resting, a look of pain embedded on his features. He opened his eyes as she sat down on the bed beside him, setting her supplies on the nightstand. She glanced out the window on the far side of the room.

"If you insist on further bothering me, I suggest you be quick about it. My head is pounding and I would much prefer to be alone," he hissed.

The sun would be setting soon so she grabbed the candle from the stand. Her hand hovered over the wick and she whispered "_Imcendia_," as she closed her eyes in intense concentration. A flame weakly flickered to life beneath her palm. Snape's eyes widened slightly. She wondered if he was even slightly impressed by the small display of wandless magic.

As if reading her thoughts he said in his deep, velvety voice, "Impressive." There was only a small hint of sarcasm in his voice.

She smiled softly, ignoring his tone. "Not really. It took me years of practice, and I am only successful half of the time. I have a book of matches in my pocket just in case." She paused as she though of the countless times she had spent wasting hours practicing that little trick. "But thank you…"

He nodded but said nothing more. She could sense he was in pain. She grasped his hand in hers, and her fingers searched its rough surface for the fleshy area between his thumb and index finger. Once on target, she applied a firm pressure and held tight. He did not resist her but his eyes stared at her questioningly.

"It will take the edge off your pounding head." She continued to squeeze until she felt some of his tension release indicating her success. "I can mix a migraine elixir later if you would like."

"An interesting approach," he responded as he closed his eyes again. "If one is without a wand, I suppose."

Ophelia mentally counted – two half-compliments in as many minutes. This was not the Professor Snape she remembered. Then again, neither were the strands of grey beginning to show in his jet black hair, or the gaunt frame and pained features that lay on the bed beside her.

After a few minutes she released his hand. "May I… um, undress you, Sir?" She asked as she reached for the buttons of his tattered robes. She felt a blush rise in her cheeks as she mentally chastised herself for not being more eloquent.

His eyes opened, and she could tell he was amused by the pink hue of her face, but he did not embarrass her further. He simply nodded as he reached to assist her with the process. Ophelia could not help but feel the intimacy of this moment as she relieved the man in bed next to her of his clothing in the soft glow of the candle light and the setting sun. Her cheeks continued to burn.

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_S__he seems so innocent,_ Snape thought as the young healer carefully removed his garments one button at a time. He doubted she was as she seemed, however. Her touch was like that of a lover, gentle but determined, but the pink hue cast across her cheekbones showed her motives were of something other than pleasure. Part of him enjoyed the sensations of having a lovely witch undress him in the evening glow. Her features were soft in the candlelight. This primal part of him wanted to reach out and grasp her, pull her close, and seek comfort from her body. While the tingling in his loins agreed, the ache of his abused body would not allow it.

He groaned in discomfort as she pulled him forward, slipping the dark robes from his shoulders revealing his white, sweat-stained undershirt. He flinched in pain as her delicate fingers touched his throat tracing the puncture wounds on either side. Her eyes met his, and he got the distinct impression that she was putting together the details of what was suppose to have been his final moments.

She reached into her bag on the nightstand and pulled out a vial and some cotton balls. She poured the ointment from the vial onto the cotton and pressed it against his wounds. He hissed at her as the scent of lemon and comfrey filled his nostrils. "When did this happen?" She demanded suddenly breaking the silence.

"Right before the end…" He cringed as she pressed harder against his wounds.

"Her venom is powerful. How did you survive?" Now Snape knew he had read her correctly but still did not understand from where she had gathered her knowledge. He sensed this girl had some dark secrets of her own, and this drew him to her. He must know what she was hiding.

"Years of imbibing my own potions, I am assuming." She nodded as she reached back into the bag and pulled out a bottle of tablets. She poured several into his palm, and he chewed them, recognizing the immunity boosters. They would likely do little against the venom, but he supposed they could not make it any worse. Next, she pulled his dirty undershirt over his head with a surprising finesse. "You have undressed many men in your time, Miss Dyson?" He raised an eyebrow.

She flushed deeply, "Mostly in a professional capacity, Sir." She glared at him as she pulled out a stethoscope from the bag. She placed the earpieces in position and extended the other end to his chest. She listened quietly as she moved the instrument across his body, listening to the sounds of his heart, lungs, and bowels. She then returned the stethoscope to the bag and dropped a few drops of lemon juice into the warm water in the basin she had brought with her. She dipped the rag into the water and then rang it out. He watched as she flinched when her blistered palm contacted with water. _Serves her right. _He touched his wand hidden away within his robes.

With a scientific thoroughness and an experienced eye she inspected his skin dragging the warm damp cloth after her wandering fingertips. She palpated each bump, bruise, and scar starting with his wrist and moving up his arm and across his chest. She meticulously wiped away the dirt, sweat, and blood that had been caked to his skin for days.

"Your ribs are broken here and badly bruised here," she declared after a few long minutes. "Without my wand I'm afraid they will take a while to heal on their own, but they will heal." He nodded and flinched as she compressed his tender, damaged anatomy. She apologized as she continued with her task of cleansing and examining his body.

Snape's breathing slowed, and his eyes closed as he took in the moment which ended much too quickly. His eyes flashed open as he felt her nimble fingers working the closure of his pants. A familiar tingling reappeared deep within his gut as he pushed her hands away. "I am not entirely helpless!" He spat at her in annoyance.

She apologized again. "I can leave you with the basin if you prefer." He would prefer to feel those talented fingers working their way up his legs, onto his thighs and into more sensitive territory, but he nodded his head. "Yes. That would be best." She nodded and quickly left the room.

He was alone with his thoughts as he slipped out of his dark trousers, at least what was left of them.He tossed them aside with the rest of his garments. _What has gotten into you? Pull your mind from the gutter!_ Such thoughts about any woman, especially former students were not something he was accustomed to experiencing. He fished his wand from his robed and tucked it into the bed beside him. He reached into the basin for the cloth and dragged in up his legs as he listened to Miss Dyson's movements in the other room.

His muscles screamed with each movement, but the warm cloth was soothing. He deserved each painful throb. This was all only a small price to pay considering he did not even deserve the air he was currently breathing. So many deaths weighed heavily on his soul, but worst of all was that image of the last moments of Albus Dumbledore which were burned into his memory.

His rational mind told him it was ridiculous due to the circumstances of that death, but he blamed himself for not being able to find a way to stop the slow death of his mentor before it was too late. He was also sickened by the twisted sense of revenge that he had drawn upon in order to accomplish his dark task.

He cringed at the memory, but the only way he had been able to look the Headmaster in the eyes and shout the words of the Unforgivable Death Curse was to blame him for _her_ death. Dumbledore had promised to keep her from harm, but he had failed, therefore he should suffer the same fate. He sighed as he swallowed back another wave of nausea.

Snape finished his task and threw the rag back into the basin as he relaxed back against the wall, pulling the sheets over his now nearly naked body. He wondered again about how and why he had survived the fatal bite of Nagini and also postulated on the possible sequence of events that lead to the death of the Dark Lord. He found himself wondering about the fate of Lily's son. Surely, he had perished as Dumbledore had foreseen. His heart ached at the image of those beautiful green eyes that he had thought would be the last sight he saw. He cursed himself for being so emotional, but those eyes continued to plague his thoughts as he drifted into a fitful sleep.

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Ophelia was hard at work in the kitchen of the cottage. A fresh pot of stew cooked over the fire, its scent filling the room, and a freshly stacked pile of wood sat nearby. Her mind raced as she ground and pungent collection of herbs with her mortar and pestle, a near empty glass of wine was within her reach. "Don't be ridiculous, Lia," she said to herself as she took another long drink of wine. She found herself wondering if she had detected a hint of arousal in her patient earlier.

At some superficial level the young witch was very aware of the effects her appearance had on men and had used them often to her advantage. Of course, she was mostly oblivious to her appearance, especially when it had been years since any male other than her father had had the pleasure of observing her beauty.

Ophelia shuddered as her stomach turned slightly with the memory of the last male to look upon her with eyes filled with lust.

It had been nearly four years since she'd encountered the reptilian features, but she could still feel his rough touch on her cheek and hear his voice hissing in her ear. "With the help of your mother, soon I will regain my former strength, and your beauty shall be my reward." The Dark Lord then flooded her mind suddenly with images of his hideous form twisted around her body, and she felt her body wretch as she vomited. Laughter had erupted from the Death Eaters that had congregated within the same kitchen in which Ophelia now worked, covering the soft sobs of her mother in the background. She also received a death stare that threatened to rip her intestines onto the floor then and there from one haunting female Death Eater. "Now now… You will get used to it…" he laughed a dark laugh as he stroked her hair.

Her father hid her away after that and started the rumor that she had left to complete her studies in America. Lord Voldemort had returned to her property only once since that time, less than a week ago, before staging the attack on Hogwarts. Thankfully, he was unaware of her presence, hidden away in the well behind the cottage. She cringed to think what would have happened if she had been discovered.

She sighed in frustration and gulped down the rest of her wine as she ground the herbs into the mortar with more force. It was twisted thinking, but she found the idea of having such an effect on her former potions professor extremely appealing. _Are you really that lonely?! _She grabbed an empty vial and poured the freshly ground mix into it. She stoppered the vial and added to the collection of other vials in one of the many cupboards of the kitchen.

She sighed again as she moved across the kitchen and filled a bowl with some stew. She sat down at the large table at the center of the room and stared out the window as the last of the evening sun disappeared under the horizon.

After only a few bites she stood back up and went about preparing a bowl of stew, some bread, and some fresh tea for her patient. She then carried the tray to the next room. "Sir?" She waited at the doorway, but there was no response. She repeated herself but still heard nothing so she entered the room and placed with tray on the nightstand.

Reaching down, she touched the hand of the sleeping man. He did not stir as she reached for his wrist to feel his pulse beating strong. She then glanced at his chest as it rose and fell. She counted the rate of his breaths and also allowed her eyes to wander across the sinewy pectoral muscles and onto his subtly defined abdominal muscles. She swallowed hard and mentally cursed herself for the inappropriate thoughts drifting through her head. _You really are that lonely…_ She licked her lips as she resisted the urge to allow her hands to follow the path of her eyes. Instead, she reached a hand out to touch his shoulder and shook him gently as she leaned in to get another look at the puncture wounds on his neck. "I've brought you some food. Please eat."

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Snape felt her presence at his bedside. His nostrils were filled with the smells of beef stew and the red wine on Miss Dyson's breath. He did not want to open his eyes and lose the vision of the green eyes still strong within his thoughts, but the girl's presence was something he found comforting to his tortured psyche. He opened his eyes finally. As his vision focused he was taken by surprise by the thick lashes covering the sapphire glow of the eyes that were centimeters from his own. Her gentle smile seemed to brighten the candle-lit room.

He cleared his throat. "Your kindness is misplaced but appreciated, Miss Dyson."

"You are very welcome," she stated as she moved the tray onto his lap. "How are you doing?" Her concern for him seemed genuine despite her selfish motives.

"Small talk is a nonproductive endeavor," he sneered. He never understood the need for others to always insist on knowing how everyone _was_ all the time. It seemed like a silly question that was only destined to receive useless answers.

"A subjective inquiry to your health status is not small talk considering your current position as my patient." She retorted boldly which surprised him as he detected a tone of injured pride. He felt a momentary guilt, but also relief that the girl would not realize the effect she was having on him.

"I did not intend to survive this War. Death was to be my reward. Pardon me for being less the enthusiastic to be here talking about my current state of being." He resisted the childish urge to roll his eyes.

She laughed and Snape was taken aback. What could possibly have been so amusing about that rather blunt suicidal ideation? He glared at her and she quickly silenced, still smiling. "Well Professor, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Sir, but not only did you survive this War but you emerged a victor. And after a few days here with me, I believe you will be a little more optimistic about the future. Now eat!"

He studied her quizzically as the words sank into his mind and then into his soul. She was correct. Despite the tragic events he had been part of for too many years, he had fought for the winning side. The rest of the World may not believe the killer of Dumbledore a hero, but the most evil wizard of all known time would never threaten the Wizarding world again.

He swallowed hard as he glanced down at his inner forearm where the faded Dark Mark reminded him of all he had been through. He then looked at the attractive witch waiting patiently for him to respond as she leaned against the wall, arms folded in front of her.

He grabbed the tea cup and slowly took a long sip appreciating the flavor. "Perhaps all is not lost," he admitted finally and her smile widened making her even more lovely. He then leaned into the tray and took a bite of the stew. He almost gasped as the delectable intensity of the flavors overtook his senses. He could not remember the last time he had eaten anything but bland slop meant only to fulfill his energy needs and foul potions meant to make his existence tolerable. "My compliments to the chef."

"There is plenty more if you wish," she nodded and started cleaning up near the bed. His eyes followed her as she flitted about the area removing the basin and dirty rag and picking up his clothing. She looked at the garments in disgust. "These are hardly worth repairing, but I think I can find some replacements for you." He did not respond but continued to indulge in her stew, comparing it to a well made potion; the flavors mixed seamlessly together but were still distinctly detectable.

She left the room again, arms full. Snape watched the sway of her hips as she disappeared. For the first time since Lily Evans, he felt a desire to get close to this intriguing female. _You old fool! _He chastened himself in the same tone he usually reserved for his students. _She would never want an ornery, washed-up git of a creature such as you…she will reject you… as Lily did._

His heart sank. He would never deserve such a prize as her anyway. Fate had never been kind to him; why should that change now? He continued to enjoy the stew and bread. The rich flavors never dulled as he emptied the bowl. He could already feel the strength starting to settle into his war torn, exhausted body.

Miss Dyson returned, a smile on her face, as she saw his empty tray. "Would you care for some more?" He shook his head and yawned deeply.

"I will leave you to rest then. I will be in the next room if you need anything." She took the tray from his lap and left a glass of water on the nightstand. Then she left the room, pausing at the doorway. "Good night, Professor." And for once those words did not insight bitter fears in his head and actually provided some sort of comfort as sleep overtook him almost immediately.

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A/N: I want to hear your thoughts. Do you find this chapter believable? Thank you!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: The Point of No Return

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter Universe; that honor belongs to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. I thank them for the inspiration, however. Also, this story contains sexual and other adult themes, hence the M rating.

Ophelia set down the tray near the sink and took a few deep breaths as she glanced suspiciously about the large kitchen. She then moved across the room to stir the embers in the fireplace. "Lia, Lia…" she whispered and shook her head. "You are acting like a schoolgirl." She laughed softly to herself as she thought about the lighthearted giddiness she was feeling. Just having someone to associate with after being so long alone was a gift to her spirit. But to finally have hope of a potential release from her personal hell was more than she could bear.

She had felt those dark eyes taking in her features as she moved about. Normally she would be disgusted by being mentally undressed in such a way, but this time was different. She didn't feel violated, but instead found herself hoping the professor liked what he saw. She let these ridiculous thoughts pass after a moment and returned to her tasks.

After she was satisfied with the state of the kitchen, Ophelia approached the doorway to the cabin and turned the locks; three of them. She then closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, placing her hands softly on the smooth wood of the frame on either side of the door. She concentrated, expelling all thoughts from her mind until she could feel the hum of the magic that was the charms protecting the cottage. These spells had been put in place years ago by herself and her mother to shield them from harm. Each night, she tested the magic to ensure it still stood. The enchantment had weakened after the death of her mother, but somehow even without her wand Ophelia had managed to keep them from failing.

Softly, she mumbled strengthening spells under her breath. She had no idea whether this nightly ritual was truly ever successful, but it did allow her to sleep at night. She always imagined for an instant that she could feel her own energy mingling with the charms and a rush of security would wash around her.

Finally, she ended her routine by tracing the Ancient Rune for protection in the air over the threshold. As usual, she smiled and thought of her mother doing the same gesture each evening before tucking her into bed. Ophelia has even gotten in the habit of signing over her door in the dormitory at Hogwarts. Her roommates would tease her about it, but they would never let her sleep without first completing the task. Her fingers unconsciously stroked the necklace that hung around her neck. She stood quietly deep in thought for a long moment before retiring to her bedroom.

Ophelia awoke at sunrise the next morning. She stretched her arms overhead as she sat up in the large bed. She had not slept so soundly in over a week and reveled in the feeling of being well rested. She pulled her legs from the warmth of her bed and slipped into her shoes at the side of the bed as she pulled her light summer robes over the camisole and leggings she currently wore.

After a splash of water to her face and few quick strokes of a comb through her hair, she was in the kitchen placing a fresh cauldron of water over the fire. She tied on an apron and unlatched the locks of the front door. She smiled as the morning sunlight hit her face as she opened the door wide. Then she sighed as she looked around her property. Another day of manual labor was ahead of her. She frowned.

She closed the front door as she approached barn. She longed for the days when she had a trustworthy house elf and the use of her wand to accomplish the many tasks that she was now forced to do by hand. She felt as though she had been time warped back to an earlier century now as she dug through the hen nests looking for fresh eggs and dropped them into the pockets of her apron. For someone that had never so much as made a sandwich without some sort of magical assistance, adapting to this new lifestyle was painfully difficult.

She had once been accustomed to summering in America with her cousins where wizards and witches enjoyed many Muggle technologies as well as the use of magic in their day to day existence. She had even carried a cell phone and learned to drive a car at one time in the not so distant past. She was capable to using the internet and navigating the subway system of Chicago with ease. Now she couldn't even get access to a Daily Prophet much less check an email. Some days she was actually amazed that she had made it through the first few weeks after the death of her mother.

Ophelia laughed at the ridiculousness of her entire situation. Her life had turned into a regular "Little House of the Prairie." She used to tease he cousins for enjoying that show when they were growing up. They would brush her comments off stating she could never understand not being from the Midwest. _If they could only see me now?_ Her heart ached for the use of her magic again.

When her apron was heavy with fresh eggs she headed to the garden to pick some vegetables and herbs for the day's meals. The rest of her morning continued in much the same fashion. She had goats to milk, fire kindling to gather, logs to chop, and laundry to wash and hang out to dry. Finally it was time for brunch. She made a quick work of whipping up some scrambled eggs and toast for herself and her patient.

The Professor was resting quietly when she went to check on him and bring him his brunch and a fresh set of robes. She left the tray on the nightstand and she quickly checked his vitals. He did not stir and his vitals were normal so she left him. _Who knows when the last time was that he was able to just rest?_ She thought as she watched him from the doorway.

From that vantage point, there was nothing intimidating about him. She could almost forget the tales of the Bat of the Dungeon from her Hogwarts days. She laughed to herself as she left the room and went about her day per usual.

Hours later, after eating her own brunch, preparing a fish chowder and placing it over the fire to simmer for the afternoon, baking some fresh bread, and spending some time reading her charms book, she again checked on her patient. When Ophelia entered the room, she found Professor Snape sitting on the edge of this bed, his hand clutching his side over his injured rib cage. "Are you alright, Sir?" Her voice was full of concern. She approached the bed and sat next to her patient as her fingers instinctively reached out to feel the tensed muscles and tender flesh. He flinched in discomfort but did not pull away.

"Would you like something for the pain?" Her fingers massaged the area gently, careful to avoid the area of the rib fractures and bruises.

Snape shook his head. "What I would like is for you to repair this. I am sure you are plenty capable of such simple healing, am I correct?"

She was not sure if the statement was meant to be an insult or a compliment. She was plenty capable when properly equipped; she started to remind him of her lack of wand. He silenced her with just a look as he grasped her hand from his chest. She tried to pull away, suddenly afraid. Her eyes met his, and she raised an eyebrow in question as she held her breath.

He reached into his borrowed robes, pulled out his wand, and pressed it gently into her palm. He then curled his fingers around hers, grasping the handle as he stared intently into her eyes. She shuddered as she felt him analyze her. She was positive that he was delving into her thoughts. Almost like a static shock, she could feel her own energy reach out to the wand as he released his grip from her trembling hand.

Without a word he laid back, eyes still locked onto hers, studying her, reading her. She was shocked at the trust that had just been afforded to her as she felt the weight of the wand heavy in her palm. She tried to contain the energy that was now boiling up inside her core. It was almost as if the wand itself was begging to yield to her. She bounced the wooden rod slightly testing the feel of it. It felt good.

"I suggest you try something simple first, Miss Dyson. I do not wish to lose any anatomy due to your lack of recent experience." The sides of his mouth turned up slightly with a hint of a smile.

Ophelia nodded as she swallowed hard. The bandage on her hand stood as a reminder of her last attempt to use this wand. Her mind raced through the many options of basic wand magic before she whispered, "_Lumos_" under her breath.

A huge smile crossed her face as she felt a small surge of energy and the tip of the wand glowed brightly. It felt marvelous. Her pulse quickened. "_Nox_," she commanded and the glow disappeared. Snape studied her intensely as she aimed the wand at the glass on the night stand. "_Aquamenti_," she called out and a stream of water flowed from the wand into the glass. Her smile grew larger still. _Oh gods, I have missed this…_

She glanced down at the Professor, and he nodded his approval. She reached her left hand out and again palpated his tender ribcage feeling for the imperfection indicating the fracture lines. She waved the wand slowly over the injury and closed her eyes to concentrate on her task, "_Episkey_." She heard her patient inhale sharply but then felt him relax beneath her fingers,

Ophelia opened her eyes as she ran her fingers across the Professor's ribcage again. The imperfections from before had disappeared. "Your anatomy is now better than when I found you," she smiled.

She lingered for a long moment and then reluctantly placed the wand back into Snape's grasp, feeling an immediate sense of emptiness as she pulled away. She sighed. In his eyes flashed a momentary look of understanding as he nodded to her. She resisted the urge to brush a stray stand of hair from his face.

"Once again, I must thank you," he stated as he tucked the wand quickly back into his robes.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, other than Ophelia's constant fixation over the joy of using wand magic again. She could not get over the high that yielding the Professor's wand had brought her. She had been longing for the release of the magic within her for years. Those few simple spells were hardly enough to quench her thirst, but she was grateful for them none the less and wondered if she would ever truly be able to express her gratitude to the man that had given her this new found euphoria.

That evening, Ophelia assisted Snape into the kitchen to eat his dinner. They ate in silence, but she could sense his conflicted contemplations almost as if he was speaking his thoughts to her but in riddles she could not quite comprehend. It was clear that this man's life had not been a pleasant one, and she found herself wishing she could relieve him of some of the inner psychological suffering he was going through. He truly was the definition of a tortured soul.

After dinner, he joined her in front for the fireplace quietly reading from one of the texts she had brought downstairs from her father's library, as she sat flipping through one of her mother's healing herbology books and sipping some wine. She could feel his gaze shift to her occasionally, and it made her heart skip a beat each time. Even in his weakened state, he radiated with power.

Finally, she looked at him from across the hearth, firelight reflecting from his pale features. He no longer intimidated her. _Such an enigma..._ A mysterious smile crossed her lips. He looked up at her then, locking eyes, and raised a dark eyebrow in a questioning expression. Her smile only widened in response as her thoughts made her giddy. _My dear Professor, tonight I am going to seduce you… _She licked her lips at the thought, their eyes still locked.

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_W__hat is this devious witch up to?_ Snape wondered as he attempted to read her expression to no avail. He tried not to stare as Miss Dyson stood from the chair she had moments ago been draped over so elegantly. She stretched her arms high over head with a yawn. The position resulted in her form being perfectly outlined by the thin fabric of her plum colored robes. His eyes momentarily fixed on the soft curves of her breasts but a familiar tingling in the pit of his stomach caused him to look away into the flames flickering in the fireplace, but he sensed her eyes upon him.

"More wine, Professor?" she asked casually.

He nodded without turning towards her, pretending to be deep in thought. He could smell her earthy scent as she approached to top off his glass. It infuriated him that she was able to cause him to lose control of his body and thoughts even if only for an instant. How is it that he had been able to control these urges for nearly two decades but was now becoming hyperaware of the feminine charms of this former student?

He had had plenty the opportunity in the past to enjoy such pleasures as a woman could offer, especially certain Death Eater women. And yet he never let them close enough to break down his defenses the way this young witch was now doing so gracefully. He would not allow himself to be vulnerable like that, not even for the shear ecstasy of a physical release. But that was before…

Snape then stared up at the shapely form standing next to his chair sipping her wine as she stared into the flames. "Thank you," he replied softly and tilted his glass to his lips. He looked back down at the book sitting open on his lap. "Are these your chicken scratches?" He pointed to the notes in the margins, noting it was even more difficult to decipher than his own penmanship.

She leaned in close to him, looking over his shoulder mere centimeters from brushing against him. "Guilty as charged," she whispered, her breath on his cheek. Then she smiled.

He swallowed hard. A simple turn of his face could potentially result in bring them cheek to cheek or perhaps lip to lip. His pulse quickened as her scent grew stronger. He nodded but said nothing as he pretended to focus on the text. His beautiful caretaker stood up again, still smiling. He could feel her eyes studying him. "What are you gawking at, Miss Dyson?" He questioned curtly.

"I am just wondering how you are feeling," she stated still standing close to him as she sipped her wine.

"I am old, tired, and bitter," he sneered as her eyes bore into him as if she was looking into his soul. "But nothing in your bag of tricks will heal me of that."

Her eyebrows rose in response and she laughed softly as she took another sip of wine. "You may be surprised," she purred as she licked her lips.

Snape felt a sudden panic was over him as he contemplated the chance that she may be offering herself to him. Why would this young beauty even consider a used up, worn out, shell of a man such as himself? The thought was absurd. Loneliness must be clouding her judgment or else he must be misinterpreting her intentions.

In spite of his attempts to do otherwise, he envisioned the curves of her nude body pressed against his own. He felt a twitch in his loins and almost groaned out loud as he suppressed the foreign urges. She never broke her eye contact, and her eyes sparkled in the firelight. He took another long sip of wine as he continued to undress her with his mind _Do not tease me like this…_

"Do you like what you see, Professor?" She questioned softly.

Snape almost choked on the wine. Had he been that obvious? He instantly regretted his momentary lowered guard. He was now reminded why he never allowed himself to give in to such temptations. They would only weaken his self-discipline that that taken decades to perfect. But as he continued to stare at those blue eyes he found himself wondering if that was necessarily a disadvantage anymore.

He was no longer acting as a double agent. The Dark Lord was dead for good this time so his life was no longer constantly threatened. The fact was that the charming woman standing before him was likely the only person that even knew he had survived the Final Battle.

"You are playing with fire, Miss Dyson." His dark eyes flashed with lust, as he hoped suddenly that her intentions were as they seemed. He would not resist her advances, but he was not comfortable making any of his own. He would not know how anyway…

She nodded slowly and took a step closer. "I know… I am hoping to be burned." She was practically purring. There was no mistaking her intentions now, but that didn't calm the doubt in his subconscious. She must be doing this out of pity. Did she know how deprived of female interactions he was? Or was she just desperately lonely and did not care who fulfilled her needs? He downed the rest of his wine and waited anxiously to see how the situation would progress.

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A/N: Interesting concept of just plain cheesy – you be the judge. Leave me some feedback. Thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Crossing The Line

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter Universe; that honor belongs to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. I thank them for the inspiration, however. Also, this story contains sexual and other adult themes, hence the M rating.

Ophelia studied the Potion's Master. _What is going on inside that mind?_ She could feel the anxiety she was causing him which only spurred her on. She hadn't made a man this nervous since…_Oh gods, is it possible that he is a virgin?_ _How delicious…_ The intensity of her gaze increased.

She took in his features, the dark hair and pale skin. He wasn't classically handsome by any means, but he had strong, defined features. That combined with his long lean build, and velvety smooth voice made for an appealing package to her. But mostly it was the dark, piercing, knowing eyes that drew her to him. They were incredible expressive when he allowed them to be. She remembered how easily one disapproving gaze could silence an entire classroom and send shivers down the spine. Now, however, those stunning eyes were telling her that she was in control.

She held out her hand, palm up, as he watched her. She almost felt sorry for the man as he literally appeared dumbfounded as she whispered, "Do you trust me, Professor?" She heard him swallow hard and take a deep breath as he reached a hand out to hers. Electricity shot through her body at his touch. _This is going to be fun_. She gave him a mysterious smile as she turned to guide him into her bedroom. He did not resist but only raised a dark questioning eyebrow. His eyes were drinking her in, and she was enjoying her power over him.

Her bedroom was lit by the soft glow of several lanterns and the moonlight through the curtains. The bed itself took up most of the small room. It appeared soft and inviting. Ophelia guided Snape to the bed and pushed him to a sitting position with a wicked grin.

"You best not be teasing me, Miss Dyson," he growled in a tone that would have been terrifying in any other context.

"I wouldn't dream of it," she whispered leaning in close. The sexual tension was thick enough to slash with a sword. His eyes were fixed on her, filled with anticipation, desire, and even a little fear. She had to hold herself back from pouncing to take him that instant. She knew that extending the pleasure would be that much more exquisite for both of them.

"Now relax." She stepped so that her body was between his thighs and reached out a hand to caress his cheek gently. Then she ran her hand through his hair. It was much softer that she had expected. She leaned in to brush her lips softly against his. She glanced up at him, and she felt his body jerk tensely as she kissed him deeper. She placed one hand on his chest, and she could feel his heart racing as was her own. She parted his lips with her tongue, and she sensed the tension ease from him as he responded to her. His lips parted, and he tasted wonderful. She inhaled his scent deeply.

Finally, Snape brought a hand to her hip, and her body shivered at his touch. The other hand soon followed. She continued to lean into him until he leaned back onto the bed. She positioned herself above her now captive lover by straddling his thighs. She could feel his arousal through his robes. She broke the kiss then as he panted, eyes wide, staring into hers. She grabbed his hands from her hips and placed them on the soft flesh of her breasts, and she moaned softly as his fingers began to explore her.

She kissed him again, this time with greater force, as she rubbed against his body. "May I undress you, Sir?" She asked coyly hoping he would appreciate the humor in the question as she remembered the last time it had been asked.

He nodded, and a slight smile appeared across his face as he continued to massage her sensitive breasts. She reached between them and began to loosen his robes one button at a time. Her suspicions on his lack of experience were slowly being confirmed. She could sense it in his awkward movements, and it made her want him even more. She reveled in the thought of being the first woman to accept him in to her body. It was possibly the most intimate moment two people could share. She briefly wondered if the closed off, guarded professor would even allow her to cross that line.

Soon she had managed to free him from his robes, and she pulled him into a sitting position as she stood again between his thighs. His fierce, dark eyes seemed overwhelmed as he gazed at her. She pulled his shirt over his head and reached for the buttons of her own robes. She made quick work of them and the garments fell to the floor to reveal her brown leggings and matching camisole.

He may have been lacking in experience, but he knew exactly what to say to her at that most vulnerable moment. "Gods, you are lovely," he said in a low silky voice that made her body ache with need as he reached for her hips. "May I see more?" He tugged at the camisole, and Ophelia happily discarded it surprised by the lack of the usual sarcasm in his voice.

He gasped, and she began to wiggle herself free from the leggings. She then stood before him in only her silky blue panties that matched the color of her eyes. She almost laughed at the gawking look on the professor's face.

His eyes were wide as he took in the sight before him. One hand again hesitantly reached for her waist and pulled her closer, as the other stroked gently across her abdomen then up onto her breast. He gently squeezed each breast and then traced a path across her collar bone and back down her side to her hips, his lustful, curious gaze following his hands.

Ophelia smiled as she watched. He touched her as though she was fragile. She never would have guessed the most frightening professor at Hogwarts was the same man that was now stroking her curves with trembling hands. She placed a hand on his shoulder and played with his hair as he explored her body. He looked up at her then as rested both hands on her hips, thumbs stroking the soft fabric of her panties. He leaned in and kissed her on the abdomen softly; pulling away, he looked at her again.

She pulled him to his feet and reached for his pants. Seconds later they were around his ankles and she smiled up at him as she reached between them to feel his erection. She smiled wickedly as he jumped at her touch with a soft gasp. She leaned into him and blew softly on his earlobe before taking it into her mouth. She sucked on it gently and then nibbled it as her hands wrapped around his swollen shaft and teasingly stroked up and back down.

Soon his hips began to move in opposition as he ground against her body. She kissed him again. He responded by wrapping his fingers into her hair and pulling her closer as he kissed her back. This time he allowed his tongue to probe her mouth softly, curiously. She pressed her breasts against his chest as her hands kept working between their thighs. She enjoyed the feeling of his strong, nimble fingers caressing her scalp, tangling her hair as their tongues danced fiercely.

Finally, she pulled away for need of air. His eyes burned with desire as he panted, his hands holding her shoulders. She licked her lips and gave him another wicked smile as she began to kiss and nip along his jaw line and down his neck. She continued onto his chest as she explored his nipples with one hand leaving the other firmly wrapped around his shaft. His grip on her shoulders tightened as she continued her descent down his chest, nipping at his flank and then travelling down his abdomen.

Ophelia dropped to her knees, Snape's hands still on her shoulders. She looked up at him, his eyes were wide, and one eyebrow was cocked questioningly. She licked her lips again as her hands reached around his body. She pulled down the professor's black boxers laughing to herself, _would have pegged him for briefs…much more practical._

Once she had freed his body from all garments, she leaned forward and took his erection into her mouth. His entire body tensed under her hands and she heard him grunt. She paused and looked up at him again. "Relax… Trust me," she said in a soft, raspy voice. Her fingertips massaged his buttocks until she felt him relax slightly as he took a deep breath. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

He was looking down at her, fingers in her hair again. This time he seemed more comfortable as she took him into her mouth. Her tongue teased the sensitive flesh, and she felt him squirm slightly. She began gently sucking him as she glanced back up. His eyes were closed and his breathing increased its rate. She skillfully continued her ministrations to his member as her fingers continued a forceful massage of his muscular behind. She was confident in the skills of her tongue even if it had been years since she had practiced such skills. She increased her force and pace slowly until she felt his squirms synchronize with her movements. His fingers tensed against her scalp as he whimpered slightly.

Ophelia loved every moment. It was sweet torture to be so turned on. She ached to just take him inside of her but knew denying herself would be worth it in the end. She was lost in the moment, his smell, his taste, the sounds of his soft moans, the fingertips massaging her scalp.

She looked up at him again as she moved one hand to tease his scrotum. His face was twisted in pleasure. She moved her other hand to draw soft circles across his abdomen and then joined it with the efforts of her mouth along his shaft.

He glanced down at her and their eyes met. So many emotions glowed in the dark stare; pleasure, confusion, anticipation, anxiety, need…"Oh Merlin!" He gasped and closed his eyes tightly as he thrust suddenly against her, his fingers digging into her hair. Ophelia pulled him closer as she felt him climax.

His knees gave way and he collapsed upon the bed. She followed, crawling up his body to lie beside his panting form. Snape turned to look at her, a look of satisfaction on his features.

"You are most welcome," she smiled at him and placed a hand on his chest. He nodded and took her hand in his as he closed his eyes again. She leaned into him and took his bottom lip into her mouth sucking and nipping gently. She smiled as she felt him wrap one arm around her waist and reach the other to her breast. His actions were more confident as he allowed himself to experiment with different touches and motions, his eyes locked onto her as if to judge her reactions.

"Mmmm," She purred as she continued to kiss him. "Don't stop." She felt him tense beneath her as his movements intensified. She then took his hand and guided it between her thighs. He paused for a moment before letting his fingers caress her sensitive flesh. She shivered in pleasure as he continued to runs his fingers back and forth. She moaned softly each time he would rub against her aching nub until he caught her hints and focused his efforts there as she squirmed. Then she felt him tentatively dip a finger inside of her.

"Mmm, yes - that's it," she whispered in his ear as she pressed her body into his palm. His eyes watched hers and she was sure he knew she was enjoying his actions. She felt another finger slip into her as he pressed a little deeper and moved faster. Soon his fingers were bringing her to her own climax. _Mmmm, a quick learner…_ She let out a soft moan against his ear as she gripped him close and her body shuddered.

"Yesss, thank you…" She purred and then opened her eyes to find him still staring at her. She reached a hand down between their bodies and smiled as she found that he had recovered from her previous treatment. She locked eyes with Snape as she straddled his hips.

Without breaking eye contact, she rubbed herself against his erection several times and then slowly lowered herself onto his body. The look in his eyes as she felt him slip inside of her for the first time was the final piece of evidence of his virginity, and it was possibly the most sensual sight she had seen in her mere twenty-three years of existence.

He moaned softly. It was almost as though she could see his mind go blank and suddenly focus only on what was happening to his body. She ground her hips gently against his body and then pulled away from him slowly as she leaned in to kiss him. As she pushed against him a second time he grabbed her by the hips and ran his hands down her thighs.

Then they both moaned as she continued her rhythmic thrusts. Her body tingled with pleasure and her mind glowed with the thoughts of the feelings her partner must be experiencing. She hoped that this moment had exceeded any expectations that he may have had. She wished vainly to be unforgettable.

Moments later, she felt his body start to tense beneath her and she knew he was nearing another climax. Suddenly, he gripped her hips tightly, stopping her movements. A wicked smile crossed his lips, "not quite yet…" he whispered as he flipped their bodies over.

Snape quickly found his way back inside her and she cried out in pleasure as he moved above her, taking her, claiming her. His eyes burned into her and she cried out again as his motions became more insistent and controlling. She ran her fingers across the lean muscles of his chest and then wrapped her hands around to his back and dragged them down to his buttocks and squeezed. He groaned then and she knew he was struggling to hold on a few moments longer as she dug her nails into the soft flesh and nipped at his earlobe and neck.

Then she felt an intense wave of pleasure taking her under. She felt her body tensing as it begged for more. He must have felt it too because he pulled her closer and quickened his pace as they both crashed onto the peak of pleasure together with cries of passion and then collapsed side by side onto the mattress breathing deeply. Ophelia's head was spinning.

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Snape lay beside the now dozing girl curled up against his body, eyes wide as he stared at the ceiling. One hand was idly stroking her shoulder as his mind attempted to form coherent thoughts. She had been everything he could have wanted and more. Her body was amazing. Physically, he was exhausted and yet his recent experience left him craving more. It had energized something deep within him; a part of him he did not understand.

He looked over at Ophelia as a wave of guilt swept over him. How had he allowed this to happen? He had no doubt that she would soon regret what had transpired between them. More importantly, how had he let his self-control falter? A few moments of pleasure had undone a life-time of strict discipline. He sighed. His whole being tingled with insecurity, and he despised the feeling.

Ophelia opened her eyes and leaned onto her elbow looking into his eyes. "Get some rest." She smiled, but then her features took on a more serious appearance. "What's the matter?"

He shook his head but said nothing. He did not know how to speak with her now. His usual judgmental, distant approach to interaction refused to surface as he struggled for an appropriate response.

"Okay, fine. But please tell me if I have offended you in any way"

"Very few things are capable of offending me, Miss Dyson. I assure you that you currently are not among that list. I do, however, find your recent behavior difficult to comprehend."

"You mean you want to know why I came on to you?"

He nodded and raised an eyebrow.

"It is not all that complicated. I enjoy sex, and I have been quite deprived of it as of late. I was hoping you would be willing to help me out." She smiled mysteriously.

Snape almost choked on her bluntness. "It shows…" he finally replied.

She gave him yet another wicked smile. "Are you complaining, Sir?" She teased.

"No…"

"Good. What else is on your mind?" Her eyes were piercing but full of compassion. There was a long silence.

"Was it," He paused as he searched for appropriate words. "As you expected?" He finally asked softly. He was aching to know if he had pleased her the same way she had pleased him and if she had detected his secret.

"I thoroughly enjoyed myself, yes." Her fingers stroked his abdomen in soft circles. "Did you have your doubts?"

Again he said nothing, but his eyes must have revealed his new-found insecurity.

"Relax, Professor. You are a natural, and I would be thrilled for an encore performance at any time. I am quite satisfied" She licked her lips seductively as her bare leg slid across his naked body.

"Was it that apparent?" He almost cringed at the thought of what she must be thinking. He stroked the soft flesh of her thigh. Such a beautiful and obviously experienced woman claiming the virginity of her former professor whom was much her senior was a disturbing concept. He was awed by her level of comfort and maturity over a subject so foreign to him. Still, he could hardly believe that he had allowed his former student to break down his walls like this. _Can't take it back now…_

"Your secret is safe with me." She smiled. "In fact I thank you for the honor, and I only hope I have not soured the entire concept for you." She said softly.

He was relieved. She had managed to quell his fears in a surprisingly simple and straightforward manner and did not probe him for information about why things were as they were. He growled at her as he flipped over her, pinning her to the soft mattress. "On the contrary, Miss Dyson." He grunted as he pushed inside of her again lust filling his eyes.

She gasped. "Oh my," she teased as her legs wrapped around his waist. "I've created a monster…"

He smiled then and let her infectious energy wash over him as he once again enjoyed the sensations from her body. While their bodies were joined, the dark haired beauty below him was the only thing on his mind. Perhaps Fate was not his enemy after all…

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A/N: Grossed out or turned on? Either way, let me hear about it. Thanks for the feedback!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: An Unwelcome Intruder

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter Universe; that honor belongs to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. I thank them for the inspiration, however. Also, this story contains sexual and other adult themes, hence the M rating.

The sun rose much too early for Ophelia's tired body. She drew the curtains closed and snuggled close to the man in bed beside her. Memories of the previous night filled her thoughts and she smiled as she glanced up at his pale features. _You are insane, Lia. You are only asking for trouble._

It didn't matter, however. She had accomplished her goal and was quite satisfied with the results. She was actually shocked by how easily the Potions Master had been seduced. She thought she would have to hint and tease for several days, but he must have been as needy as she because her charms worked swiftly. The thought of being his first pleased her.

Her fingers stroked across his chest as she attempted to fall back to sleep. She listened to the rhythmic sounds of his breathing and watched his chest rise and fall. She enjoyed the heat of his body pressed up against her. It had been a long time since she had had the pleasure of waking up to someone else, and then it had seemed more awkward than enjoyable. Her experience with the professor was much different than those of her teenage years. She snuggled closer and drifted back to sleep.

A short while later she reawakened. _Get up Lia. There is much to do!_ She yawned and sat up with a stretch. She slipped into a clean pair of leggings and camisole and threw on her robes and shoes before heading to the bathroom. She pulled her hair back into a loose twist at her nape, washed her face and hands, and brushed her teeth. She glanced in on her sleeping bed partner and smiled as she moved into the kitchen.

Ophelia threw some fresh logs on the fire and stirred the embers until flames flickered back to life. Then she tied on her apron and started to make some tea. As she stood waiting for the kettle to whistle, a strange uneasiness settled into the pit of her stomach, and then the hairs on the back on her neck stood up.

She glanced around the kitchen slowly as her hand reached for one of the chopping knives. She realized she had neglected her nightly ritual of assessing the protection spells. Her heart was racing even though she had not yet noticed anything amiss. Then she sensed it – a new dark presence - there was a click; then a second; then a third. Ophelia backed into a shadowed corner as she realized the locks had been released. Momentarily she wondered if her father had possibly survived the Final Battle, but as the door swung open her heart sank.

The cloaked form stepped into her kitchen, wand drawn. She recognized the rigid blond man immediately. "Mr. Malfoy, how wonderful of you to drop by," she hissed venomously as he turned suddenly towards her. Ophelia gripped the blade in her hand tighter, but it remained at her side.

"Back from your travels, Miss Dyson?" He was clearly annoyed with finding anyone in the cottage.

She nodded. "What can I do for you?" Her voice dripped with contempt as she glared at the Death Eater.

He laughed then as his eyes swept across her form, and he licked his lips. "Pity the Dark Lord never got to have his way with you as planned. I imagine it would have been quite a show." His words made her cringe as her stomach churned. "Tell me, Miss Dyson, why do you think I am here?" He stepped closer. She could now smell his cologne.

"I am not a Legelimens, Sir. I have no idea what you could want from the home of a healer as you seem perfectly healthy to me." She paused with an innocent smile. "Tell me, did you miss out on the Final Battle or did you just get lucky enough to emerge unscathed? Or perhaps you just sent your 'people' to do the dirty work for you." Her eyes narrowed in disgust.

"Do not mock me girl! You know exactly what I seek. Give me the notes!" His eyes blazed, and his nostrils were flaring.

She laughed sarcastically. "I've only just returned. I have no idea to what notes you are referring. Perhaps if you would be more specific I can be of more help."

"Do not test my patience further!" His eyes were practically glowing with rage now which thrilled her in a twisted sadistic way. "Where are they, witch?!"

She swallowed hard. She knew exactly what he sought and exactly where they were hidden, but she would not allow such powerful information to fall in the hands of someone as slimy and self-serving as Lucius Malfoy. She continued her defiant glare as a response as she raised the knife slightly.

"Still without a wand, Miss Dyson?" He licked his lips and a wicked smile appeared on his face. "Shall I show you what true power feels like?"

The next thing Ophelia realized was excruciating pain as the blade dropped from her fingertips with a clang, and she fell to her knees. Lucius approached, wand still aimed at her gut. "Can you feel it?" He sneered as his eyes ogled her form. "Scream for me." The pain grew within her, stealing her breath. "Scream, bitch!" He demanded and his eyes locked onto hers.

Ophelia stared back defiantly as she felt her innards twist tighter. Every muscle in her body was tensed and aching, but she remained silent.

"I will kill you without hesitation, Miss Dyson."

"I… have no…doubt…" At this point she was wishing he would actually kill her to end the pain. Then suddenly it stopped. She gasped for air desperately.

"But I think I will wait on that." He reached out and grabbed her chin, roughly as he bent close to her and inhaled her scent. He smiled again as he pulled away. "Now scream for me, Dear," he said softly. His wand poked her in the chest. "_Crucio_!"

She was overtaken with pain again, and it continued to build like icy hot flames within her bowels. She was doubled over, her head pressed into the stone floor as her arms squeezed over her belly. She gritted her teeth and clenched her jaw. She tried to will the pain away, but her efforts were meaningless.

Lucius stood over her smiling in obvious enjoyment. His eyes fixed on the trembling form at his feet. "Beg me to stop. Let me hear you scream."

"Bastard!" She hissed through gritted teeth. Finally, she could hold back no more. A tortured scream escaped her lungs against her will.

"You sound just like your mother…" she heard him state maliciously, and the pain stopped suddenly. "Now – where are the notes?"

She was weeping now as she struggled to breathe. He was correct, the situation eerily reflected the last moments of her mother's life. She glared up at Malfoy with hatred, but he was no longer looking at her.

"You are too late, Lucius." A silky voice boomed from the doorway of the bedroom, and Ophelia's heart jumped.

"Severus, how _interesting_ to find you here," responded the blond wizard without a hint of emotion. If he was shocked to see Snape alive, he did not show it. "Would you like to assist in my interrogation?" He smiled wickedly as he waved his want at her again. "_Crucio_!"

"Ooohhh, gods, no more!" She pleaded as she curled into a fetal position onto the cold stones. She felt as though she would soon lose sanity.

"Enough!" Snape ordered as he raised his wand. "She knows nothing. I have interrogated her extensively already. I believe the notes to be hidden elsewhere."

"Perhaps you just didn't try hard enough, Friend." The pain intensified and Ophelia thought it would surely destroy her. She writhed on the ground as Malfoy licked his lips in delight. "Besides, doesn't she look so lovely when she is in such pain, Severus?"

She looked at Snape, silently begging him to save her. She knew he was trying not to let on anything that may raise the suspicions of his fellow Death Eater, but she was desperate for the pain to end.

"_Protego!_" The pain ceased as Snape's shielding spell erected around her. She closed her eyes feeling as though she may faint. "It is time for you to leave. The item for which you are searching is not here, and this witch cannot help you further. Leave now, and continue your search elsewhere." Snape raised is wand in challenge.

There was a long silence as the two wizards scowled at each other with narrowed eyes. "Very well, Severus." Lucius said finally. "I will humor you for now as I can see this witch has found a soft spot in your dark soul. But when you've had your fun, I will get mine." With that he bowed to the Potions Master, backed out of the kitchen glaring at her, and disappeared with a small 'pop' in a dark cloud.

The next thing Ophelia was aware of was a hand on her shoulder and then a soft voice in her ear. "Try to relax. You will likely be in great pain for a while, but the worst is through." Snape took her weak body in his arms, lifted her from the ground, and carried her into the bedroom. The tea kettle was whistling in the background.

He laid her onto the soft mattress. "Stubborn fool. If you would have cried out earlier I could have been there sooner."

She smiled weakly and curled into the fetal position again as her entire body throbbed. He placed a hand on her head and gently stroked her hair. She was actually shocked by the amount of compassion in the simple touch. Much to her dismay, she began to cry again. She tried to turn away, embarrassed at her loss of control, but he resisted her movements as he continued to stroke her hair softly.

"Stay still, Miss Dyson," he said sternly as he wiped a tear away with the sleeve of his robe. She nodded in response and closed her eyes concentrating on the feeling of his touch. "I have found that time is the only thing that relieves this pain, unfortunately."

She looked up at him and was surprised to see her pain mirrored in his eyes. "Please hold me…" she sobbed as she was overtaken by emotions and pain.

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Snape drew back as if she had burned him, but relaxed when he saw the desperation in her eyes. Never had anyone actually requested physical contact from him in such a way before, but he could understand the desire. He had spent many an early morning in the hospital wing at Hogwarts curled on a cot after an evening with the Dark Lord. The torturous curse creates a feeling of emptiness and hopelessness that is much worse than the actual pain.

He nodded slowly and shed his shoes before crawling into the bed behind her. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her petite body against him protectively.

She took his hand then and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Thank you," she whispered. "And thank you for scaring off Malfoy. A few seconds more and I would have told him everything…"

He tensed then which caused her to groan in pain. "You know?!" He questioned her with a bit more shock in his voice than he would have preferred. He almost shook her in disbelief but caught himself in time. "Why did you not say anything?

"Because no one, especially not Malfoy, can be trusted with the information in those notes."

"You have read them?"

"Most of them, yes… at least as much as I could stomach anyway…" She said softly, clearly still in great pain, but her revulsion was still obvious.

He pulled her closer as he thought about what sorts of horrors were possibly contained within the meticulous logs the Dark Lord had insisted be kept by his followers. They contained records of all the Death Eaters activities as well as the plans for the future. Most importantly, however, were the Dark Lord's many powerful secrets that would be very dangerous in the wrong hands.

Of course, that was the reason for the notes in the first place. They had been started for exactly the events that had come to pass. If the Dark Lord was somehow defeated, he planned to allow his cause to continue via these notes. He had also had the lofty goal of producing an heir and passing on his secrets to him. Those plans were also outlined in these notes. A part of him was jealous of her knowledge because though Snape was aware of the notes, he had personally never laid eyes on them, and he wondered how it happened that they were placed in Ophelia's keeping.

"I tried to destroy them you know. I threw them into the fire, down the well, and even took an axe to them."

"No, I would not expect them to be that easy to destroy. You are fortunate that they did not have any retaliation curses in place." The notes were actually a very clever magic. Each Death Eater had the ability to add to them at any time from any location with just some ink, some parchment, and the proper incantation. In this way the writings were added to the collection without anyone actually knowing the location of the book that contained the collection in its entirety. He had assumed that the Dark Lord had kept the notes with him, but apparently that assumption was in error.

"Yes, but these really need to be destroyed or locked away forever." She spoke slowly and deliberately as she continued to writhe in his arms. He truly felt sympathy for the witch. He wished there was more he could do for her as she stroked her hair, but he knew his options were limited.

"I agree, however, you are in no state to do anything right now. Allow me to mix a sleeping potion for you so that you may sleep through the worst of the after effects."

She nodded. "That would be wonderful." She smiled weakly, but it did nothing to hide the pain in her glance.

He left her then, curled tightly in a ball on the bed trembling. It was an unfortunate turn of events. Hours before that same lovely body had trembled with pleasure. Snape had hoped to be able to enjoy the young witch's charms as often as she would allow as he now found himself practically addicted to her body's ability to empty his thoughts and demand his complete focus. But now, his mind was focused on the Dark Lord's notes. He must keep them out of the hands of the Death Eaters. He must destroy them. But first, he _must_ read them.

He considered the powerful magic he could gain from the notes as he moved about the kitchen searching for the necessary components for a decent sleeping potion. Her stocks were rather meager, especially when it came to some of the more difficult to find ingredients that Snape was accustom to having access to through Hogwarts, but he was able to assemble an acceptable list.

With the efficiency and skill that came with many years of experience, he brewed a suitable potion. He then filled a mug and brought it to the bedroom as his thoughts still raced through all the possible secrets hidden within the Dark Lord's notes. Then he contemplated just where they may be hidden. They must be on the property somewhere for her to have access to them. He sat down next to Miss Dyson and assisted her to a sitting position.

She took the mug from him and smiled. "An ironic role reversal," she laughed and then cringed as she pressed her body close to his.

He nodded in response. "Indeed, but surely, you will be more cooperative than I." He was still deep in thought.

She seemed to be studying him as she took a sip from the mug. "I am not going to tell you where they are unless you are going to help me destroy them."

Snape was speechless. Since when had he become so easy to read? "Drink up and get some rest. This can be discussed at a later time." His voice was low but commanding.

She nodded and drank down the rest of the sleeping potion. "I will not risk allowing such dark magic to be known. This world has suffered enough…" She yawned then, and he could see her eyelids getting heavier, but they did not hide the shadows in her gaze. He watched as she lay down slowly and closed her eyes. He gave her hand a comforting squeeze. The last look she gave him before drifting off to sleep made it clear that her previous statement meant she did not intend for him to be able to read the notes.

_We shall see about that Miss Dyson…_

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Many hours later Ophelia slowly awoke from her potion-induced deep sleep. She looked out the window to see the sun low in the sky. She groaned loudly as she sat up. Most of the day had passed, and she had gotten nothing accomplished. This setback would put her behind for the entire week. At least her body felt a bit better. The professor had been right, and she was glad for the relief.

As she was moving to slip into her shoes, Snape entered the bedroom. "Is everything alright in here?" He glanced around the room quickly and then looked at her. "Are you sure you are feeling up to that?"

Ophelia nodded and smiled. "I have much to do, Professor, and the day has gotten away from me."

"You needn't worry. I summoned my house elf to assist you after finding your to-do list in your supply cupboard. I think she has managed to get through it quite well. She has even milked your goats I believe."

She stared at him silently for a long moment. "Um, thank you," she finally replied.

He approached her and extended a hand. "Now come have some dinner. I've had Edlyn go shopping, and she has prepared my favorite meal."

"Oh really?" She raised an eyebrow in curiosity as she took his outstretched hand with her own as she tried to guess as to what could possibly deserve the label as a favorite in Snape's world; the smell of frying oil in the air was her only clue.

As he led her into the kitchen her first thoughts were how spotless the room looked. Then her nostrils were invaded with the smells of lemon and fish, and she saw the tiny house elf frantically working over the stove, standing on a chair to reach. She sat in the chair that Snape had chivalrously pulled out for her and gave him a smile as she placed the napkin on her lap and watched him take a seat nearby. "Fish and chips are your favorite?" Her tone was teasing.

"What did you expect, Miss Dyson?"

"I don't know, something a bit more … exotic, I guess. But I am definitely not complaining."

The house elf poured them each a glass of wine and placed plates piled high with steaming fried fish and potatoes complete with fresh lemon wedges on the side. Ophelia thanked the elf as she excitedly dug in her dinner. "Mmmmmm, amazing."

"I thought you might approve." Then he pulled something from his robes. "Here are this week's Daily Prophets. A lot has been happening since the fall of the Dark Lord. It appears the Potter Boy somehow survived it all."

Ophelia almost choked. "WHAT? How did the little prat pull that one off?" She had always been annoyed by Potter and his never-ending drama, but mostly she was just jealous that he was able to stand up and fight while she was stuck in house arrest reading about it in the Daily Prophet. She knew the Dark Lord obsessed over the boy's death. The notes constantly made reference to his demise. She found it poetic justice that Potter had survived while Voldemort perished.

Snape raised an eyebrow and gave a half smile at the comment.

"What? You were as annoyed by him as I," she stated and shrugged her shoulders. She took a bite of her fish as she watched her dinner partner. "Oh yes, how I have missed you grease!" She continued to devour the food on her plate in a rather unladylike fashion.

"If you are feeling up to it, tomorrow I suggest we attempt to disarm the binding spell placed upon you and take a trip to Diagon Alley to purchase you a new wand." His eyes locked onto her as her own eyes widened. "If we are going to be successful in destroying the Dark Lord's notes before they end up in the wrong hands, we best act quickly. I anticipate trouble so to have you wandless would be unwise."

She nodded slowly as the words sank in. Her body was seized with excitement and anticipation and she smiled widely as she continued to enjoy her meal. "Of course, Professor. I am very grateful for your assistance in both matters." She tried not to let her excitement show too much but was sure she was being unsuccessful by the smug look on the professor's face.

They continued to eat their dinner while flipping through pages of the Daily Prophet. Ophelia eagerly read each issue front to back welcoming a connection to the outside world and relieved that soon she may be part of it again. She was comforted to read that Hogwarts still stood off in the distance and that Voldemort truly was gone.

Reading the records of deaths from the Final Battle made her ill, however, as she read the names of friends and family. She had known several of the Weasley boys, one intimately. She had been at Hogwarts with Nymphadora Tonks during her first couple years. She was also a student of Professor Lupin during his days teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. Of course, she also recognized the names of many of the deceased Death Eaters as well, one being her father.

"Is everything alright, Miss Dyson?" Snape questioned softly as he watched her.

"So much death; so much waste…" she mumbled and he nodded.

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Snape watched the young witch as emotions danced through his mind. He felt sadness for the life lost, resentment towards himself and towards Dumbledore for the role he was forced to play, a surprising relief that Potter had survived, and an unexplainable emptiness. The deaths had been great on both sides. So many, skilled and powerful witches and wizards had perished.

"Such is the nature of war…" he thought aloud.

"I just do not understand how someone can want something so badly that they are willing to destroy anyone who dares to prevent them from obtaining it," Her eyes bore into him. Again Snape could swear she was attempting to invade his thoughts.

"Let's hope you will never understand," he whispered, but her words stung him in a way that only one other person had ever been able to. His jaw clenched as he tried not to let that most painful memory enter his mind. He swallowed hard.

Ophelia reached for his hand and squeezed it gently. Her blue eyes were so full of compassion that the memories drifted away unnoticed. Had he ever been so innocent?

"You are fortunate to have survived such dark times and still have such faith in people."

She laughed. "It's not faith, Professor…" She paused as though reconsidering her words. "I've spent many hours among dying witches and wizards working here and at St. Mungo's with my mother. I can't really explain how, but when we get to that point it is as if our powers speak for us…" She paused again and shook her head slowly.

"It tells of the life lived in a way that does not lie. And it reveals our true motivations, our deepest regrets, and our greatest joys. Never have I met someone that has caused me to question an inherent 'goodness' save one…" Her eyes glanced momentarily onto his forearm where the edge of the Dark Mark was visible, and he understood she meant the Dark Lord.

"_Hecatius Acceptum_, Miss Dyson – a very rare gift indeed." He paused and his eyes narrowed with interest - yet another secret this mysterious witch had been hiding. "It can be trained to read others even without the presence of the threat of death." _Hecatius Acceptum_ was a unique ability even more powerful than Legelimency when properly trained and wielded. The mind was capable of deceiving, but the magic was not.

Snape felt a twinge of jealousy as now more than ever had to resist the urge to delve into her mind. He knew it would be so easy as she stared wide-eyed and trusting at him. He longed to taste her secrets as it was now apparent that there was much more to her than he had once believed.

She nodded. "I've felt it with infants as well. Always so pure and full of inspiration…" she closed her eyes for a long moment as if enjoying an old memory. Then she frowned. "But the Dark Lord… he was the loudest – practically shouting with darkness, hatred, and fear. I became physically ill the first time I encountered him…and I couldn't ignore it like I can with others."

Snape understood that feeling. He had felt the same when warding off the Dark Lord's penetrations into his own mind. He finally understood how this witch had been able to understand so much about his … situation. His jaw clenched as he glanced away from her stare. Her thoughts were practically jumping out to him now, and he wondered why she had dropped her guard. He did not deserve such trust.

"What other secrets might you be keeping, Miss Dyson?" He narrowed his eyes and turned towards her again. He nodded as he felt her mind snap shut. "Yes, you are wise not to be so trusting."

Her eyes darkened. "You do not truly want to know."

_Oh yes I do, My Dear, in fact, I must know, and I will know…_

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A/N: I can only improve through your feedback so help me out. Thank you!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: A New Mission

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter Universe; that honor belongs to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. I thank them for the inspiration, however. Also, this story contains sexual and other adult themes, hence the M rating.

Ophelia stood up as she suddenly felt intensely claustrophobic. She longed to share her knowledge with anyone who would listen and verged on revealing it all to Snape. However, she knew that would be a mistake.

She moved guardedly across the room because her muscles still ached. She released the locks and left through the front door without a word.

Her feet carried her subconsciously towards her favorite place as her mind raced. How had she gotten into this mess? Her only goal in life had been to study magical medicine like her mother and her grandmother. Now, she was burdened with more dark knowledge than most could learn in an entire lifetime.

Until recently, she had managed simply to pretend she had never read the notes or encountered Voldemort. Without her wand, most of the knowledge was useless anyway so she had very little temptation. Instead, she had forced herself to study the texts in her father's library trying to drown out the evils in her head.

She paused and glanced around as she sighed. The creek was babbling peacefully within its banks and the cool May breeze was rustling through the leaves of the willow tree nestled beside it. The sky was a deep shade of violet accented with oranges and reds.

She grabbed the tree's lowest branch and swung her legs onto another nearby branch. There she sat with her legs dangling free and her head resting against the willow's trunk as the breeze blew through her robes. She stared into the passing water, concentrating on the colorful sky reflecting in the ripples and struggled to rid her mind of her many worries.

She sighed again. It had been the appearance of Professor Snape that had caused her to be reminded of all she was unfortunate enough to possess. His curiosity had fostered her own, but even more so, his presence meant a potential end to her incarceration and an opportunity to finally destroy the notes. That was if she would be able to convince the former Death Eater to assist her while refusing his desire to learn the secrets for himself.

It would be difficult, but as much as she wished to share her burden, she knew the fewer eyes that saw the notes the safer this World would be. She had already witnessed the corrupting influence of the Dark Arts in many, and a wizard like Snape should not be tempted in such a way.

Ophelia glanced away from the water. She could feel the Professor's presence nearing. He approached her quietly and stood next to the willow, leaning against the trunk. His eyes met hers, and he gave her a questioning look.

"I'm fine. I just needed to reenergize and clear my head." She took a deep breath of the crisp air and closed her eyes.

"It's been four years…" she said suddenly. "Four years since I've been beyond that fence line. I should be a licensed healer by now." She felt a gentle hand on her leg and her eyes met his again.

"All is not lost, Miss Dyson."

She immediately felt guilt for being so selfish. So many good people had died. She had no right to be whining about how unfair life had been to _her_. Besides, now it was her time to make a difference. She must ensure the destruction of the notes by whatever means necessary.

She looked around; the sun had almost set. She glanced back at Professor Snape and smiled. Tomorrow her mission would begin, but tonight she had other plans. She reached her hand to take Snape's shoulder as she dropped to the ground in front of him smoothly despite her sore muscles.

She inhaled deeply again. Nothing recharged her more than being surrounded by the elements; the air in her hair; the earth under her feet; the sound of the water below; and the fire of the magical pulse within it all.

"You are right. All is not lost, Professor." She leaned in and stood on her toes as she kissed him eagerly. His arms wrapped around her waist, pressing her into him, and his tongue pressed between her lips. He then pulled her legs up around his waist. She felt the wood of the willow tree against her back. She kicked off her shoes and crossed her ankles behind his back as she reached for the buttons of his robes. She pulled away from his feverish kisses and moaned in his ear. "I want you now, Professor."

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"With pleasure!" The Potions Master bellowed back as his hands reached for the closure of his pants. Ophelia's lips crashed into his again as her fingers stripped him of his robes. She smelt incredible. The thought of taking her in the twilight against the willow was intoxicating. He reached between them to pull her robes open from the waist down and to untangle her legs from his body just long enough to rid her of her leggings and panties.

With the trunk of the willow supporting her weight, he grabbed her soft fleshy breast with one hand and dropped his pants with the other. He could feel her heat against his thigh he pressed her harder against the tree.

She squirmed under him as he slowly pushed into her body. She moaned into his mouth as he sunk her weight onto him completely and then pulled away. His mind blanked to everything except the feeling of her muscles tightening around him, her breasts pressed against his chest, and her tongue roaming his mouth. He continued his thrusts, and her sounds of pleasure increased. He loved being able to manipulate her body like this, and he felt his orgasm start to build.

His young lover was writhing wildly with her hands in her dark locks, and her eyes closed tightly. Soon he felt her body tremble and shudder as she pulled him tightly against her with what could only be called a squeal. Moments later his own body shuddered as he emptied himself into the panting witch with a grunt.

He stroked her hair as they breathed deeply in unison, with matching sated smiles on their faces. He kissed her lips softly as he lowered her back to the ground and picked a leaf from her tangled hair with a half smile. She was lovelier now here in the moonlight than ever.

She laughed as she buttoned her robes again and picked up her discarded clothing. Snape still could not believe he had claimed such a beauty. Even if the arrangement was only temporary, he was grateful that Fate had given him such a treasure. He pulled up his pants and gave her a curious look. At least he would not die a virgin.

She walked barefoot back to the cottage, and he admired her form beneath the night sky's glow as he followed behind her. He wondered then how much longer this physical relationship would last. Surely she would move on from him once he gave her what she wanted, or perhaps sooner. He sighed.

She waited for him at the doorway. Once he was inside, she locked the three locks and stared at him. "Would you ward the doors tonight?" He could see the fear on her face. He didn't blame her. He could not imagine what pains being without magic truly meant. He nodded in response to her as he made a smooth turn on his heel to face the door.

He could feel Ophelia's eyes on his back as he worked the spells. He cast his favorite locking spell, one that could only be released from the inside, as well as a protection spell that would cause him to wake if anyone approached the area near the cottage. "That should be sufficient," he mumbled as he lowered his wand and stepped back from the door.

Then he watched curiously as the witch flourished her arm in the air. He recognized the symbol – Algiz – the ancient rune for protection. It seemed a silly gesture, especially without a wand, but he decided to humor her by tracing the path of her fingers with his wand, leaving a glowing trail momentarily.

She gave him a grateful smile and a gentle squeeze on the arm which he found strangely rewarding. Then she turned swiftly and headed towards the bedroom. He stood there awkwardly not sure whether to follow or take leave of her for the evening.

"I am planning a hot bath before bed. Care to join me, Professor?" She gave him a wicked smile and continued through the doorway.

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The unlikely lovers awoke early the next morning to the smell of omelets and potatoes. Ophelia gave the professor a contented smile as their tired eyes met. It had been a most enjoyable, if not exhausting night. Wandering hands in the warmth of the bath had been just the beginning. She did not complain, however, because her excitement about the upcoming day had stolen any thoughts of sleep from her anyway. Eventually, however, in the early morning hours, fatigue overtook the pair. Finally, her day of freedom had arrived.

She quickly climbed out of bed, overflowing with excitement and headed to the bathroom for a much needed shower. As she bathed her sore muscles, her mind flitted from thought to thought randomly. Between being free from her house arrest, regaining a wand, and finally being able to make progress on her mission to destroy Voldemort's notes, she could not focus her mind or her energy on much of anything for longer than several seconds. Even as the Professor joined her in the shower, her mind drifted elsewhere. They said nothing to one another as they bathed. His thoughts seemed to be elsewhere as well.

They emerged silently from the shower and quickly dried themselves before returning to the bedroom to dress. At last, Ophelia's mind joined her body. She felt an odd tension in the air and decided to break the silence. "What are the plans, Professor?"

He stared at her for a long moment, and then she felt the tension break as he spoke to her. "First, I suggest you gather the notes from wherever you have them stored. We should not leave them unguarded."

She nodded.

"Then we will work on lowering the spell that keeps you here. From there we can make our way to Diagon Alley, I suppose. Once you have a wand in your possession, we can plan further."

She nodded again as her heart raced anxiously. Today would be her last day as a prisoner. "Let's get some breakfast."

They moved to the kitchen and ate their meal quickly and quietly. Occasional glances were their only communication. Ophelia knew Snape was as anxious as she was, but she wondered what was going on behind those dark, clouded eyes. She found herself frustrated. Today was the day she had waited four years to come, and now she was more interested in someone else's inner turmoil instead. Her sense of his energy gave her only hints of the conflicts occurring behind the silence, which soured the moment further.

Finally, she could tolerate the silence no longer. If she was going to trust this man, she needed to understand him. "Why are you helping me, Sir?"

"Does it really matter, Miss Dyson?" His tone was slightly harsh, annoyed even, although she had known worse.

"Yes. It does actually. If I retrieve the notes, I have to trust you not to attempt to take them or read them." She forced eye contact despite her discomfort.

"I must admit to being tempted," He paused with a sigh as he set down his fork. "That is precisely why I have not asked about their whereabouts." He paused again, breaking eye contact. "You should not trust me. I do not trust myself…"

She swallowed hard; shocked by the openness she had just received. She then nodded slowly.

"However, I agree that the notes must be destroyed." He looked away from her then, and she understood that he was admitting his weakness to her. She almost regretted questioning him now as he confirmed that part of the mission to destroy the evil writings would be to keep them away from the only person willing to help her.

She stood up from her chair finally. "Shall we?" He stood as well, and the two left through the front door. She did not fear leading Snape to the hiding place because she knew that as long as he did not know its secret he would never be able to find the place again.

"Follow me," she said softly and led him around to the side of the cottage. She silently counted steps and watched for minute landmarks as they moved through the grass. Then it became clear to her; the old well that sat several meters away from the cottage in the lowest section of the property.

She smiled as she noticed Snape seemed oblivious to their destination, and she hoped he had not caught on to the secret. When the well became clear to him, he never let on a hint of surprise, not even when they came to a halt in front of the old stone structure.

Ophelia dropped the bucket into the well and waited to hear it hit the water as Snape watched without expression. "My great grandfather became paranoid in his old age that someone was trying to poison his water supply so he hid the well. Now it can be only found by those who know where to look." She jumped onto the stones and grabbed hold of the rope as she kicked off her shoes. She began to descend down the rope. "Wait here."

She climbed into the damp darkness until she was about halfway to the bottom. Then she reached out stroking the damp stone wall until she felt a section of perfectly smooth surface. She tapped three times, and the stone slid away revealing a hidden shelf on which sat a nondescript worn looking satchel. She threw the satchel over her shoulder and climbed back up the rope to the awaiting wizard above. He chivalrously extended a hand to help her from the well as his eyes glanced at the leather bag at her side.

"Rather anticlimactic, I know." She smiled as she pated the satchel.

"On to our next order of business then, I suppose." He responded and she nodded as he strode past her towards the fence line. She laughed to herself as she though of the fear those billowing black robes had once caused her. _How things change…_

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Snape marched faster than usual. He was on a mission – a mission of distraction. How easy it would be to overtake the girl and gain possession of the secrets she carried; how simple and how tempting. He was not even exactly sure what was stopping him. Perhaps it was the fact that he knew he would never destroy the powerful writings if left to his own devices. Perhaps it was because he preferred to keep the company of this mysterious witch for now. Or perhaps even he had finally tired of those ways. The reason did not really matter to his so much as he was able to resist.

When he reached the fence line he turned swiftly as he noticed Ophelia no longer followed. Instead, she was standing several meters away watching him, hands rubbing her wrists. He moved closer to her. "Hold out your arms," he commanded and she obeyed. He placed the tip of his wand against her wrist. "_Revealo_," he whisperer and glowing green magical shackles appeared around the girl's wrists and ankles, and her eyes widened as se stared at him. "Interesting…" he mumbled as he considered his options.

He tapped his wand on the restraints and whispered, "_Finite Incantatem_."

"Ahh!" Ophelia exclaimed with a flinch, but the bonds did not move. "Try again…" she begged.

"_Abduco_!" Nothing. He waved his wand precisely above her wrists. _"Expeditum_." Still nothing. He was quickly becoming frustrated. This process should have been straightforward for a wizard like himself. He cursed to himself.

"Do you recall anything about the spell your father used to create these bonds?" He asked hoping a clue may reduce the number of options for reversing the magic as the trial and error method could take all morning. He was anxious to leave this place. He had a knowing sense that other Death Eaters would soon be searching for the hidden notes, and he did not want to be around when they arrived.

"He drew blood…" she whispered as she demonstrated a cutting motion on her left palm and her eyes locked onto his. "And placed it into a vial of some sort of potion. I am quite sure it was dark magic."

He nodded slowly. It was indeed dark magic, but he knew of the spell. It was once used in Azkaban to keep prisoners from escape. "Are you restricted by the fence line all the way around your property?"

"Yes. I've walked it many times looking for a weakness." She was still staring at him with a fierce intensity. She must be worried that he would fail to free her.

"Wait here," he ordered as he strode back to the fence. At the nearest fence post he pointed his wand and commanded, "_Revealo_." As he suspected a red "X" momentarily appeared near the base of the post and then faded. He nodded and returned to where the anxious witch stood.

"It is a complex spell that would be time consuming to completely reverse." He saw her face sink with emotion. "But…" he watched as her eyes widened. "I think we can create a passage to the other side. "Eventually perhaps we will have the luxury of time to undertake a full reversal." Ophelia nodded, eyes still wide. He was tempted to touch her but decided against the idea. They did not have time for that nonsense now. "I will require more blood."

"Of course," she whined and rolled her eyes as she dug into her satchel. "Bloody dark magic…pun intended." Snape was actually surprised to find she had a small blade and several empty potion vials tucked away in the pockets of her satchel. It was probably her old school bag.

She handed him one of the vials as she removed the blade from its sheath. She pressed it into the flesh of her left palm, wincing slightly. Then she raised her palm over the vial, and he watched as her blood trickled into it, drop by drop. He could not take his eyes from the crimson fluid now filling the vial in his hands. As a potions master he knew the power present in a being's blood and watching Miss Dyson so freely give him access to such power was captivating his thoughts. Was she aware how dangerous this action could be for her?

After a few moments he capped the vial. "That will be sufficient," he reluctantly stated. Then he took her palm in his and waved his wand over the damaged surface. He watched as the bleeding slowed and then stopped and the edges closed leaving only a reddened ridge.

"Thank you." Her fingers caressed the newly healed skin. Then she looked up at him and smiled.

He simply nodded as he turned smoothly back towards the fence. He stopped midway between two posts and uncapped the vial. He tipped the tip of his wand into the precious fluid and then raised his wand as high as he could reach, drawing an "X" in the air. "_Confinium_,"he whispered and a red glowing "X" flashed at the point above his wand. Satisfied, he turned towards Ophelia. "Come, Miss Dyson." He beckoned her closer with a motion of his hand.

He watched as she approached him apprehensively, but she showed no signs of pain. A smile slowly grew on her face as she approached. "What do you feel?"

"I can feel the weight of the spell but no pain." Her pace increased over the last few steps.

"Continue." He waved her past the fence line and watched as she ducked through the beams that made up the wooden boundary.

She started to jump up and down on the other side of the fence. "It worked!" She cheered as her hair bounced over her shoulders.

He nodded. "Had you're a broomstick you probably could have flown over the boundary with little issue."

He was surprised as her excitement faded and her expression drooped again. "You are kidding, right?!" Her tone was demanding and irritated.

He shook his head as he eyed her curiously. "Not at all. The magic does not work below the points so your father cast it at ground level but it probably only extends around 4 to 5 meters above the ground. The spell is not ideal for outdoor use."

"That Bastard!" She yelled, and he was actually taken aback for an instant as he tried to understand her anger. He raised an eyebrow as she gestured towards the barn. She was practically in tears. "My father's old broom is in the barn." She paced along the fence with her fists tight with anger.

"You must think I am a fool not to consider such an option." She wiped her face with the sleeve of her robe. "He did this on purpose. I know it! I am completely terrified of flying. He is punishing me even now for not being willing to overcome that fear." She let out a frustrated noise and spoke to the sky. "I am sorry I was never a damn Quidditch star, Father, but must you be so cruel?!"

Now Snape remembered Ophelia's father had been a star keeper for the Slytherin House while he had been at Hogwarts. "Well Miss Dyson, it is all moot now anyway, but I doubt it was all less of a punishment and more simply an advantage in his favor. Trapping you on the property certainly outranks sealing you in your bedroom for four years." He dismissed the subject with a motion of his hand.

"Shall we focus on the task at hand?" He stepped gracefully over the fence to join her. "Do you have everything you need?" She nodded and he held out his arm. "Since a broomstick seems to be out of the question," he teased with a half smile and received a bitter glare in return. "I suggest we apparate instead." She took his arm then and they disappeared with a small "pop."

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After several apparitions they landed in a quiet alley in London and Ophelia peeled herself away from the death grip she had on the professor. She had forgotten the squished-together discomfort of apparating. She winkled her nose in disgust. Then she took a deep breath and smiled widely as she was overtaken by the strong pulse of magic all around her. "It is good to be back!" She took another deep breath.

Snape was already on the move, waving his wand around him as he strode. She jogged to catch up. Soon they entered the busy hustle of Diagon Alley and disappeared among the crowds. They walked silently towards Ollivander's, but she could sense that the powerful wizard was on high alert beside her, and that made her anxious as well. She was relieved when they finally entered the shop of the old wand maker. Snape whispered something under his breath, and she then realized that they had been using a disillusionment charm.

Ollivander's was exactly as she remembered; and she remembered it vividly even though it had been so many years ago. She stared wide eyed at the rows and rows of boxes filled with wands, each unique as she wondered which she would claim today.

"Hello Miss. What can I do for you?" The wand maker's voice called out to her from among the shelves.

"Mr. Ollivander, Sir. My name is Ophelia Dyson and…" she was interrupted as the old man appeared from the shelves.

"Ahhh, Miss Dyson. I was wondering when you would return. I received our broken wand from your mother over four years ago I believe…"

Ophelia nodded; her mother had owled the broken splinters and unicorn hair back to the wand maker in hopes that it could be repaired.

"There was no hope for repair, but I did salvage the unicorn strand and was able to place it into a new wand. Would you like to have a look?" His eyes sparkled as he smiled at her.

"Yes! Of course!" Her excitement was clear in her voice despite attempts to control herself. She could feel Snape's cold stare on her backside.

"One moment…" the old artisan disappeared among the shelves again.

"Stop pacing, Professor. You are making me nervous." She said as she turned towards the wizard. He stopped beside her with a look of annoyance on his face.

"It has been over a week since the end of the war and Lucius has been the only Death Eater to come searching for the notes. Others will soon pursue them as well." He said quietly as he glanced at the doors and then back at her.

"Very few people know they were in my father's possession," she whispered back.

"Ahhh, here we are…Oh Professor Snape…I did not see you there." Ollivander gave him a suspicious glare which Snape returned.

"Anyway, Miss Dyson." He flipped open the wand box with a smile. "Ten inches, flexible, willow wood with your original unicorn tail hair. This wand is excellent for charms and the engravings are..."

"Exquisite…" she whispered as her fingers caressed the elegant designs. The wand hummed beneath her touch.

"Thank you, Miss. Celtic and Nordic healing symbols. Would you like to try it out?" The wand maker encouraged and Ophelia blissfully obliged. She took the beautiful wand from its case and balanced it in her palm. It felt perfect.

"It is even lovelier than the original, Sir." She admired the craftsmanship before she gave it a gentle flick. The wand eagerly responded with a trail of golden sparks that scented the room of rose water. Her pleasure was short lived however, as she felt Snape's inpatient glare upon her.

"Perfect," Ollivander mumbled as his eyes glanced between her and her companion slowly.

"I will take it." The shop owner nodded and quickly prepared the wand for purchase. Soon the wand had been paid for and was safely tucked within her robes. As they left, Ophelia paused, leaning into Ollivander as she whispered, "It would be wonderful if no one ever knew we were here." She gestured towards the Potions Master.

"But of course," he gave a knowing wink and smiled, but she sensed his suspicion and curiosity.

"Thank you for your discretion, Sir." She smiled sweetly to the old wizard as they walked out, and Snape gave her an approving glance as he waved his wand around them.

"Where to now, Professor?" She asked as they both glanced around cautiously.

"Somewhere quiet with something strong to drink so we can sit and think."

"To the Leaky Cauldron then?" She laughed as he gave a nod.

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A/N: I love you all for putting up with me this long. Please leave feedback if you are so inclined. Thanks!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: More Questions Than Answers

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter Universe; that honor belongs to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. I thank them for the inspiration, however. Also, this story contains sexual and other adult themes, hence the M rating.

They journeyed across Diagon Alley towards the infamous inn and pub. He stopped suddenly, however, and Ophelia crashed into him from behind. He grasped her and pulled her into the shadows of a side street. Alarms blared in his head. "Someone has entered your cottage."

The girl's lovely eyes grew larger, and she placed one hand on the satchel at her side, and the other drew her wand. His eyes darted between her and back towards the bustle of the Alley as he considered their options. He knew of one place that they would be safe temporarily and would have access to material they may need to accomplish their task. "Come." His voice was deep and commanding. They moved back in to the Alley with her hand still in his.

He swiftly guided them into Flourish and Blotts and headed directly towards the fireplace. He grabbed a handful of floo powder from the bucket next to the hearth. "Follow behind." She nodded as he tossed the powder into the flames. "Spinner's End." He stepped into the flames and felt the familiar swirling sensation envelope him.

He stepped out of the fireplace, wand drawn. Fortunately nothing was amiss among the stacks of books in his sitting room. He then politely assisted Ophelia from the fireplace as he lowered his wand. He silently stared as she glanced slowly around the unkempt room, wondering what she was thinking. He allowed very few people into his house.

"Where are we?"

"This is my home. It is well protected. We should be safe for now." He continued to observe the witch as she tentatively moved about the room, taking it all in, fingertips brushing against the dark book spines. His eyes came to rest on the satchel at her side.

Ophelia caught his eye and gave the satchel a gentle pat. "I guess now is as good a time as any. Shall we begin?"

Snape felt his pulse quicken at the thought of being able to get a glance at the mysterious notes of the Dark Lord. He anxiously moved towards the desk that sat in the corner of the room and cleared a work space.

She set the satchel on the desk and he watched curiously as she opened the bag to reveal what appeared to be nothing more than any typical Hogwarts student would carry. She had potion vials, parchment, quills, and ink. There was also an assortment of dried herbs, a knitted scarf in Hufflepuff colors, and also a wallet. Then she meticulously placed her palm against the swirled design on the front of the satchel which resulted in the opening of another pocket along the inner edge of the enchanted bag. She reached down and pulled out a stack of parchment bound by a leather folder adorned with the Dark Mark. A quick moment of confusion flashed in her bright eyes.

Snape reached out to take the notebook from her but was taken aback when she slapped his eager hand away. He glared at her.

"I thought we had agreed…" She glared back at him.

"If I cannot see the notes, Miss Dyson, I do not believe I can be of much assistance to you." He tone was bitter.

"Yes, Professor, you can. You already possess great knowledge and experience. You will guide me."

He did not like the sound of this plan in the least. He made that apparent in his tone as he said, "Miss Dyson, in the interest of time, I suggest you just hand them over."

"No," her eyes were deep with challenge as she watched him. "With all due respect, you should not be tempted in such a way, Sir. I have no desire to use anything written within these pages, but I do not believe that you can say the same."

She was correct, of course. He would be tempted by the powers in those pages, but no more than he was tempted now to just rip the book from her hands. He clenched his fists tightly. Her stubbornness would likely be their downfall. "I would not be so confident in your own abilities to resist. The dark arts have overtaken many a pure of heart in the past."

She did not respond but placed the folder on the desk. Her fingers traced the marking on the cover. He watched intently, looking away momentarily to glance at the faded mark on his forearm. She then flipped open the cover to reveal a blank piece of parchment. She placed her palm against the paper and whispered.

Nothing happened. She then took her wand from her robes and waved it over gracefully above the page and repeated her whispered spell with a bit more force. Again nothing happened.

"I do not understand…" She chewed her lower lip in thought as Snape continued watching in silence. "This worked before…" She looked up at him. His mind was blank, filled only with anticipation. She waved her wand again. "_Specialis Revealo_!"

Suddenly, the witch became rigid, her eyes locked on the page, her wand stiffly in place. Snape grasped her shoulder. She felt icy cold to the touch. Then words began to appear on the page beneath her wand. He gasped as he read:

The Dark Lord has fallen. A successor to his throne has been chosen. May these pages serve you well.

Ophelia gasped and shuddered under his grip as the ink disappeared from the page.

"Miss Dyson, are you alright?!" Snape knelt beside her and looked up into her face. She looked ill. Her fair skin was sickly pale and her usually bright eyes were faded. It was as though she had just witnessed something terrible.

She blinked slowly several times as her eyes seemed to finally focus on his features. "That was interesting…" she whispered.

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She felt ill, but the feeling was fading. Snape was staring at her with a strange look on his face that she interpreted as concern. She was unsure what had just happened to her.

"What do you mean, Miss Dyson? What occurred last time you read these?" He made no attempt to hide his concern in his voice.

She shrugged. "Nothing happened. It was all rather uneventful. I just revealed the invisible ink and read the entries." She still felt strange, but she could not describe the sensation further.

She turned her attention back to the notebook on the desk. Her fingers flipped through the pages. Everything was different. The entries were now neat and organized instead of the random assortment of passages added by various authors in a haphazard fashion. The penmanship matched throughout the book and there appeared to be new information as well. Ophelia also sensed a new dark presence emanating from the book.

Ophelia swallowed hard. "I think the fall of the Dark Lord may have somehow activated new magic within the book. This is the not the same book I read before…"

Snape nodded. "Then we must be extra cautious now." He touched her shoulder again, and she smiled slightly, grateful for his touch. "Are you sure you are alright?"

"Is that small talk or a subjective inquiry about my health status, Professor?" She teased. "I am fine, but I sense the notes will be more difficult to destroy now. I should have completed the task sooner." She shivered as she glanced around the room. She could not shake an eerie sense that someone else was there. She noticed the professor's eyes followed her own, as he rubbed the dark mark on his arm. "You feel it too?"

He nodded. "Perhaps it is best to put the book away for now. I think some additional research and planning is in order."

Ophelia quickly closed the pages and tucked the notebook back into her satchel and watched the hidden pouch seal itself. She let out a long relieved sigh. "I do not believe the answers we need are in those pages anyway." She motioned to the satchel. "We'd have better luck finding what we need in one of those." Her hand waved to the many books piled on the multiple shelves in the room.

"Actually, Miss Dyson, you may be correct." He stood up then and his fingers grazed over the bindings of the books on a shelf across the room. "But perhaps not in the way you may think…"

His eyes were glinting as Ophelia stood to join him. He pulled a heavy, dusty volume from its home. His pale hand brushed across the cover as she watched; _Rare Abilities in the Wizarding World._ He looked at her with a quick half-smile. Then he flipped through the pages stopping midway through the book. He handed the text to her as she read:

"_Hecatius Acceptum_ is a rare, often hereditary, ability to detect the 'essence' of magic. Individuals possessing this ability have an innate capacity to feel magic in all its forms. When properly trained, the ability will allow the individual not only to sense the presence of magic but to know the intention of the magic as well as its caster. Because magic is intimately intertwined with the character, emotions, and experiences of any witch or wizard, a well trained possessor of H.A. can also perceive these assets in those they choose to 'read.' Reports even exist of instances where possessors of H.A. were capable of twisting the intentions of spells cast by others. In this sense, the ability is often feared as there is no defense known against it and no way of knowing who possesses the ability. Because H.A. is extremely rare, little is known about how those possessing it are able to hone the ability, but it is believed that the training process is similar to that of Legilemency."

Ophelia glanced up at Snape. "You think this is the key to understanding how to destroy the notes?"

He nodded.

"You can train me then, yes?" She implored him desperately with her eyes.

He did not respond at first, and she could sense his apprehension. "Trust me, please?" She touched his arm, and their eyes met. He turned away from her to stare into the empty fireplace, and she watched him silently. As she watched she felt a chill wash over her followed by a strange uneasiness. She hugged herself for warmth as she glanced about the room suspiciously. She felt as though someone was watching them, but nothing appeared amiss.

Snape looked at her and then pointed his wand into the fireplace and whispered under his breath. The flames flickered to life and the room quickly filled with warmth. He approached her. "I trust you, Ophelia, but it will be a very compromising position, and I am not sure how much temptation I will be able to endure."

She smiled softly. It had been the first time he had spoken her given name to her. She was beginning to wonder if he even knew it. She touched his arm again. "Take time to think about it then." She paused. "I am very sorry to have involved you in all of this. It is very unfair. You have been fighting this long enough…" To her surprise, he pulled her close and wrapped her in his arms.

"I know nothing else…" Snape said softly, almost inaudibly. Ophelia could feel his emotion washing over her, and she closed her eyes drinking it in. She had not felt this from Snape before. She wondered if he was revealing himself to her willingly or if she had already began gaining some new control over her ability.

"Thank you," she whispered as she wrapped her own arms around his frame. She closed her eyes again and drank in his energy, but she still could not shake that unsettling feeling of being watched.

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Snape pulled away from the young witch almost suddenly. He would not let himself become attached. He must focus on the task at hand. They could not afford such distractions.

Ophelia stared at him with an eyebrow raised. _Gods, she is lovely,_ he thought and then tried to focus on something else as he felt a familiar tingling working its way through his body.

"I will teach you what I can," he declared suddenly as he stared blankly into the bookcase. It seemed to be their best option for success, and the risks of her getting too close would be worth the benefits of ending the existence of the notes.

"Wonderful!" Ophelia exclaimed with a smile. "When can we start?"

"We will officially begin in the morning. Tonight you will read this." He managed to use the tone of the dreaded Potions Professor that he had somehow dropped over the past few days. He pulled another book from the shelf. It was a rare and outlawed text on Legilemency. This book would contain all the theory his pupil would need to begin her training as well as information regarding defense against Legilemency. Hopefully she would never need such information, but if the temptation ever overcame him, she very well may need to employ such skills. "Read _all_ of it."

She took the book with a groan reminiscent of every Hogwarts student he had ever encountered. "Homework? You aren't going to try to assign me an essay as well are you?" She laughed as she made herself comfortable on a nearby chair and opened the book.

He nodded his approval and left the sitting room as he could no longer handle the satchel containing all the Dark Lord's secrets just sitting on his desk, begging him to explore it. He entered the kitchen. "Edlyn," he called out.

Eventually the house elf appeared before him with a "pop" and bowed. "Yes, Master Snape?"

"I need some supplies as well as some dinner," he stated coldly as he reached for some parchment sitting on the kitchen table. He quickly scribbled down a list of potion supplies and handed to the elf whom disappeared as quickly as she had come.

He then headed to the pantry, pulling out his wand from his robes. He whispered under his breath to unward to the door. He then swung open the door to reveal a shelf full of potions. These would be perfect for their first lesson. He could delay the inevitable a bit longer. He grabbed several of the vials and closed the door.

Snape sighed. He should have never agreed to this. It would only lead to disaster.

The remainder of the evening was uneventful. Ophelia studies intensely as Snape searched his vast library for ideas on how to rid the world of the Dark Lord's final threat. Deep down, the thought of having the final stand against Lord Voldemort please him, but having to relinquish such great power to do so was sickening to say the least.

Edlyn served them dinner and tea in the sitting room. They ate in silence, engrossed in their individual tasks, but occasionally their eyes would meet as they stole glances at one another.

Snape jumped when he felt her gentle touch on his shoulder but then turned the desk chair to face her. She smiled wickedly as she swung a leg over him to straddle his thighs. He watched the enticing witch keenly as he placed his hands on her thighs and massaged gently.

Ophelia began unbuttoning her purple robes. Soon after they lay in a heap on the floor behind her, and she began working on his dark buttons. Once she added his robes to her own she ran her fingers through his hair and smashed her lips into his.

Her scent filled his nostrils as he pulled her close. Their tongues danced as he ran his hands down the curves of her spine, onto her buttocks, down her thighs, across her abdomen, and finally came to rest on the soft flesh of her perfect breasts. She moaned against his lips and pulled away to discard the silky camisole covering her body and the undershirt covering his own.

Snape returned his hands to her breasts and teased her nipples as they kissed again. She squirmed against him which provided fuel for his building fire. He smiled as he felt her hands moving down his chest, across his abdomen, and disappearing inside his boxers. _Merlin, her touch is marvelous. _

The passionate pair continued their mutual ministrations to each other's bodies until they could handle it no further. Snape stood up suddenly and pulled Ophelia's leggings and panties to the floor is one swift movement. "I must have you now," he growled as he freed himself from his boxers. The witch giggled as he bent her forward over his desk. His hands dragged from her shoulders to her buttocks and the he kissed her neck softly as he brought himself in position to enter her.

He pressed forward with a fulfilling grunt, and she pressed back against him. He then reached around her petite frame searching for her clit as he continued his forceful thrusts. Her passionate sounds of pleasure filled his ears and he took in their combined scent with deep breaths. His lips continued to caress her neck, shoulders, and back as she grasped the edge of the desk for support. He could feel the hot perspiration forming between their bodies as he grabbed her hips and increased his pace. The site of the beautiful, young witch bent over his desk was unbelievable.

He felt his impending climax but tried to hold back. When his lover cried out, "Oh Gods, Professor, I'm seeing stars!" and let out one of her orgasmic squeals, he could not hold back any longer. He groaned loudly and gave one final thrust as her body shuttered beneath him. He gave her shoulder another gentle kiss as he felt his body empty. Then he collapsed weakly on to her panting form.

"Mmmm, wonderful as always," she whispered and then squirmed beneath him trying to free herself from his weight.

Reluctantly he pulled away from her. "We best retire to the bedroom. We have another trying day ahead of us."

"Of course," she said as she pulled her robes over her naked form. He did the same and then led her up the stairs to his bedroom.

The room was fairly commonplace. There was a simple wooden bureau in the corner and a large four-post bed in the center. A grey rug covered the old wooden floor.

Ophelia slipped off her robe and approached the bed. "You have green silk bed sheets?!" Her amusement was clear in her tone. "You must have been miserable in my old cotton sheets."

Snape grabbed his lover around the waist. "I hardly had time to notice." He gave her one of his classic, fleeting half-smiles, and she laughed as they climbed in to bed together. He took another long drag of her sweet scent as she curled her body against him. He fell asleep with visions of their latest escapade still in his head.

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A/N: Have you figured out where this is going? Does that make you want to keep reading? What can I do to further peak your interests?


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: An Unfortunate Turn of Events

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter Universe; that honor belongs to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. I thank them for the inspiration, however. Also, this story contains sexual and other adult themes, hence the M rating.

The following morning Ophelia did not want to get out of bed. She had not slept well the night before and having Snape's arms pulling her close seemed to give her comfort from the vivid dark dreams she had awoken from. She felt as though someone had been whispering dark, dreadful secrets into her ear all night long.

"Is something wrong?" She heard the sleepy, velvety voice in her ear. "You seemed restless all night. And your skin is ice cold…"

"Terrible dreams is all," she nuzzled her body closer to him as she felt him stroke her abdomen softly. "Are you ready to begin this day or can I convince you to lie here a little longer?"

"No convincing necessary." She felt his lips on her shoulder followed by his teeth.

Ophelia closed her eyes again and tried to fall back asleep. It was a lost cause, however, as her thoughts were heavy with darkness. She sighed in frustration.

She turned to face Snape. Her body ached with lust, and if she got her way, the potion master would soon be feeling the same. Her hands began a journey across her partner's body as her lips teased his.

"Have you always been so insatiable, Miss Dyson?"

"I blame you," she smiled as she maneuvered him into her body. "Mmmmm, yes." It was true that she had felt an increased sexual energy recently, but she had never had a partner such as the one inside her now. She just could not get enough of him; so safe and so dangerous all at once. They kissed as she continued to move her hips against his. Neither lasted long, and they soon lay side by side staring at the ceiling as their chests heaved.

She tilted her head to look at him and smiled. This whole situation mildly amused her. He raised an eyebrow in response. "It's nothing…" she mumbled, but he continued to stare at her. "It's just that I think I am enjoying you more than I should."

He nodded. "It is rather peculiar." She read from his dry tone that he may have misinterpreted her words to mean he did not deserve her attentions.

"I don't mean it like that. I mean quite the inverse in fact."

"Don't be absurd, Miss Dyson. I am grateful that you see fit to allow me such pleasures."

She laughed. "Allow you? More like force upon you!"

"That is open to interpretation, I suppose." He let out a small sound of amusement that bordered on an abridged laughed.

Finally they reluctantly pulled themselves from the refuge of the bed and started the day. Edlyn prepared them a delicious brunch which they enjoyed as Snape explained how to commence her training.

"We will begin with the basics. It will be a task of simple identification. I will provide various unknown magics, and you will sense their purpose. Do you understand?"

"I think so?" She nodded her head but really had no idea what he wanted from her.

"Then let's begin. Tell me, where are the charms located in this room?" His voice naturally slipped into the one she had been all too familiar with the last time she had been in the role of student. She gave him a look of annoyance, but he seemed unfazed.

She looked around the room slowly and then closed her eyes. At first she felt nothing more than the general hum of energy that she always sensed, but she forced herself to concentrate. Still, she felt nothing specific. She frowned. "I feel magic all around me…"

"Naturally – this is the home of a wizard. But what magic?" His voice regained its old sardonic edge. "Ignore everything but the magic."

She sat quietly, struggling to tune out everything else, but the powers radiating in the room. Eventually, areas of the room began to hum louder than others. She continued to focus. "The pantry door contains several wards, as do the windows…"

"And?"

She sighed as she refocused. "The teapot is charmed…and the broom in the corner…"

"Yes." He replied simply without a tone of either praise or punishment. He then went to a cupboard and pulled out several vials. He spread them on the table in front of her. They were unlabeled. "Tell me which potions are contained in these vials."

His eyes bore in to her as if trying to see the inner workings of her mind as she contemplated the vials. Again, her original feelings gave her little information. She pushed further, trying to get any additional sense. She could still feel his dark eyes on her.

"Stop staring!" She demanded, and he looked away from her obediently. "Thank you," she added quietly. She refocused yet again. The answer still wasn't revealing itself to her. She stared at the vials filled with differently colored potions. "The red one is deadly," she blurted out as the thought occurred to her, seemingly out of nowhere.

Snape nodded.

She realized she sensed nothing from the center vial. "The clear one is distilled water?"

He nodded again.

"The last is a healing draught," she stated confidently.

"Ah, there may be hope for you after all."

"You mean you had doubts?" She laughed.

He raised an eyebrow, just a hint of amusement on his face. "Doubt is an understatement. Trusting the talents of a student is not something I make a habit of."

She shook her head. "Have you always been so cynical, Professor?"

"Yes."

And so their days continued rather tediously for over three weeks. Snape devised new tests for her and filled her evenings with readings from the various unique texts in his private collection. With each passing day she became more acute with her abilities and soon he was unable to stump her with any potion, or spell. Even his unspoken magic was no longer a mystery to her, and she even began to predict his spells before he cast them which seemed to make her instructor a bit uneasy. She knew every protection spell on almost every aspect of Spinner's End, even those cast years ago. Through it all, Ophelia felt the sense of a watchful, unseen eye which she struggled to push from her thoughts.

When it came to the Dark Lord's notes, however, her honed ability was still relatively useless. She could sense a strong dark energy emanating from the text. She had flipped through its pages a thousand times at least looking for a weakness. She knew it was fireproof, tear-proof, waterproof, dragon-proof, acid-proof, and shielded from hexes. Inexplicably, she sensed no counter-curses or hexes on the book.

Recently, Ophelia had taken to carrying the book in her satchel on her at most times; this habit troubled Snape, and he made that fact clear. Each passing day proved to be more frustrating than the last when it came to unraveling the secret of the book's Achilles' heel. There had to be something she was missing.

Their nights were filled with feverish kisses, sounds of pleasure, and sweaty bodies. They never grew bored of each other's touch as they both made up for lost time lacking such physical comforts. However, when sleep finally did come Ophelia continued to be plagued by dark, frightening dreams. She soon looked forward to each morning, when they would lie in bed together, and she would feel safe tucked in his arms while he spoke of whatever was on his mind at the time; these were the occasions when she had the pleasure of witnessing the true Severus Snape.

Then it happened…

It had been a particularly passionate sex session, one that had crossed that line from simple intercourse to border true _lovemaking_. As Snape's body tensed above her, and he made sounds of pleasure into her ear, his face twisted, she felt his magic suddenly course through her body. It was almost painful as she was consumed by it. She felt the intense realization of everything that was Snape's power; his experiences; his entire essence.

She pushed him from her with an overwhelmed gasp. He stared at her, confusion plastered on his features. Ophelia took several long, deep breaths as she contemplated what had occurred. It settled onto her all at once. Almost instantaneously she had complete consciousness of the man entangled in the green silk bed sheets beside her. Very little of her new-found insight surprised her, however. She had guessed his life had been riddled with personal tragedy and disappointments that led him to become the man that he was.

It was the lovely red-head that haunted his thoughts that overwhelmed her now. She had suspected a painful history of unrequited love to explain his inexperience with intimacy, but the details were almost poetic as she was filled with the love he had felt; still felt. She fought back a twinge of jealousy. "Oh, Severus…" she whispered as a tear escaped down her cheek as he continued to stare at her, now with suspicion. Because of what had just occurred, she knew this moment was something Snape was dreading dearly.

"I'm so sorry… I did not mean it… it just sort of happened… I'm sorry…" she repeated herself many times as the look on her lover's face turned from confusion, to understanding, to horror, and finally to rage.

She reached out to touch him, but he withdrew from her fingers as if wounded. His eyes were gleaming as he stepped out of the bed and pulled on his robes. As she moved to follow him his stare warned her to do otherwise, so she watched as he dressed and left the room, robes billowing behind him.

As the door slammed loudly, Ophelia flinched and let her emotions wash over her. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she was overtaken with guilt. Then she dried her eyes and attempted to rest. Sleep did not arrive for her that night as she waited and desperately prayed that Snape would return to the bedroom to accept her apology.

Several painstaking hours passed, and she could endure the torture no more. Where had he gone? Would he ever return? Would he ever forgive her? This unfortunate event was, after all, what he had been training her to accomplish. Shouldn't they be celebrating? "Go to him," a soft, strangely familiar voice whispered in the back of her mind. "You need him…"

She climbed out of the bed and pulled on her robes and slippers. Then she quietly crept down the hidden staircase. She found him draped across one of the time-worn chairs in his sitting room, nursing a drink as he stared blankly out the main window into the dark night. She stepped cautiously into the room. "Sir?"

"Leave me, Miss Dyson!" He did not even glance at her, but his tone was venomous, and it stung her deeply.

"Please, Professor, I…" she took a step closer. He stood suddenly, and his arm raised as if the strike her with a backhand.

She cringed but did not cower from his impending strike. She would not give him that pleasure. "Go ahead," her eyes burned with challenge. She could feel the emotions behind his dark eyes.

He lowered his hand and reached for his drink which he finished in one large swallow. "Do not assume I am not capable of it, Miss Dyson. We are all products of our upbringing." His eyes dimmed momentarily as if lost in thought.

"But we are not our fathers," she whispered. These words were as much for her as they were for him. She thought about how easily the Death Eater label had corrupted her father, and how she now was in the midst of the same dark temptations.

He moved closer to her suddenly, towering above her in an intimidating stance. "Leave Dammit! I do not wish your pity!"

She backed away from him then as emotion built within her. "You think yourself deserving of pity?!" She laughed out of disgust as she moved towards the kitchen. She heard his glass shatter and felt him grip her wrist tightly, pulling her back towards him forcefully almost stealing the breath from her lungs. She stared up at him, wide-eyed. He reeked of alcohol, and his jaw was clenched tightly.

"I feel no more pity for you, Severus Snape, than you feel for yourself. You brought most of it on yourself!" She pulled away from him violently. The red marks indicating future bruises were evident on her wrist. She rubbed the tender flesh with her opposite hand.

She met his cold gaze. His energy was swelling within him. She was glad his wand was tucked away in his robes. His eyes narrowed as he studied her with intensity. The moment seemed to last forever, and she longed to know his exact thoughts as they stared silently.

"What then, if not pity?" His eyes were still consumed with anger, and she was frightened of what he may do at any moment.

She reached her hand out to touch him, but he withdrew. "Empathy…awe…respect." Her eyes swelled with tears.

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Snape hissed in disgust as he turned from her. He no longer wished for her to be in his presence. Her tears sickened him. She was no longer safe; she knew too much of him. And yet, he believed her when she denied pity for him which was only further proof that she knew him all too well. He did not deserve pity. Pity was for the innocent and _that_ he was not. She understood this fact when no one else seemed to. Dumbledore had given him pity, as had Lily.

He listened to her soft steps as she left the room. He released a long sigh, but it did not bring any relief. He was cursing himself for letting the young witch so close in the first place. He had known this day would come as soon as he had learned of her ability. He should have taken the book, left her captive, and avoided all of this.

He sat back in the chair and ordered Edlyn to bring him another drink. He gulped it down and savored the sweet burn in the back of his throat and the fire in the pit of his stomach. He did the same to two additional glasses. He welcomed the numbness that soon followed.

He stared blankly at the flames in the fireplace for what seemed like an eternity. Her words were still echoing in his thoughts. Was it possible for someone to truly respect him knowing what she knew of him? He was skeptical but also didn't feel that she would lie to him. How much further would she have had to push him before he would have given in to his violent nature and struck her? How would she have reacted to such a gesture? Would she blame him, as she should, or herself, as his mother had done each time she took a hit from his father? He downed another glass of alcohol to drown his aching conscious.

Snape did not sleep that night but instead passed out from intoxication draped across the chair. He awoke several hours later. His head throbbed in rhythm with his guilt. He stepped up the staircase quietly and then towards his bedroom where he stopped in the doorway. He saw Ophelia asleep beneath his silk sheets. At first she seemed peaceful, but as he watched he soon discovered that she was mumbling in her sleep as she did most nights lately.

Part of him wanted to apologize to her, but his uncertainty won out. She would be unlikely to offer forgiveness anyway as his behavior had been unforgivable even in his own eyes. He had once again failed to maintain control of himself. She would be right never to speak to him again.

He left her then and set up residence on the couch in the sitting room. He slept very little. The rising sun came as a bittersweet relief as he realized there would be none of the early morning "pillow-talk" he had become accustom to.

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The next morning a strange owl appeared outside the kitchen window. Ophelia sensed Snape's suspicion and curiosity as he allowed the bird to enter and drop of its parcel before quickly leaving the way it had come. His eyes widened as he read the letter and his posture stiffened suddenly.

He then stood. "I must go." He glanced around the kitchen. "Your assignment for the day is to discover which wards are on that pantry door," he gestured to the door beside the stove. "Lower them, and gain knowledge of what secrets lie within. I promise some difficulty with this one. Some very rare, powerful potions should prove an interesting challenge." His voice was cold. He seemed not to have forgotten his anger from the previous night.

She nodded, a bit shocked by the abrupt turn they day had taken. She watched as he quickly moved into the sitting room and left out the front door. "Be safe," she called after as she watched from the threshold. Once near the cobblestone street and disapparated without a word or even a glance in her direction. Her heart ached. She glanced at the dark bruising around her wrist. He had yet to forgive her for last night, and she had a bad feeling about this…

Snape had been gone many hours and Ophelia had long since finished the tasks he had assigned to her. The challenge had been less than expected. The pantry cupboard had been the one place she had yet to explore, but the spells were easily revealed and almost as easily undone.

She was about to flip through another of the Professor's many Potions texts looking for information about the potions she had found within Snape's supply when the sounds of screaming entered the sitting room from the street. She quickly ran to the window to determine the source of the sound. In front of the house a woman was screaming desperately as a cloaked figure approached her.

Ophelia could sense the woman was Muggle, and the cloaked figure was a wizard, probably a Death Eater judging by the sense of corruption she felt from the man. She did not recognize either of them, but she knew she must help the woman before she was killed.

"Do not fear him. You are much more powerful than he," the strange voice whispered to her. Despite trying to ignore it, she found herself agreeing instead. She had learned so much in the last few weeks, and even though this voice in her mind made her feel crazy, it also made her feel invincible. That wizard had nothing on her since she had gained control of her ability, not to mention she had been privy to dark magic that few others knew of. _This is just another practice test. A further stretch of my skills…_

The cloaked wizard had to be stopped. She unlocked the door and then stepped on to the stoop. "Do it!" the dark voice encouraged, and she felt a surge of power inside of her as she raised her wand.

"_Confringo_!" She shouted and aimed her wand near the feet of the wizard. She laughed as the cobblestone blasted into pieces, and the wizard glanced around in confusion. As she was beginning to sense a deeper reaction the man suddenly disapparated with a loud "pop." She smiled to herself as she bubbled with pride. Then she remembered about the Muggle woman and rushed to her side. "Are you alight?"

The woman's eyes were wide with fear, and she did not answer.

"Don't be afraid. I will not hurt you. Are you hurt?" She looked the woman over quickly. The woman shook her head and then started to cry.

"Can you tell me what happened? Why was that man after you?"

The woman continued to cry and did not respond to her questions. Ophelia waited patiently for the woman to calm a little. "We should get out of the street." She extended a hand to the woman, and she grasped it. They moved to the small grass lawn in front of Spinner's End. "Are you sure everything is okay?"

The woman opened her mouth to speak, but instead her eyes widened, and she let out another scream. Ophelia detected the arrival of the two wizards, but it was too late. The gut wrenching pain hit her like a lightening bolt from behind. As Ophelia squirmed helplessly in the grass one of the men grabbed the Muggle woman and quickly disappeared.

Ophelia turned to face her attacker, but felt her wand fly from her grasp as she locked eyes with Lucius Malfoy. "How could you have let your guard down you stupid girl?!" The mysterious voice sneered in her head as the pain subsided. "You will ruin everything if you are not careful…"

"We meet again, Miss Dyson," Lucius declared as he approached her. "I knew you would not be able to resist the cries of innocent suffering. So predictable." He smiled as he came to a stop just out of her grasp. His wand was still aimed at her chest. "And Severus, I can't believe he was so easily conned into leaving you here alone."

Ophelia held back a gasp as she was suddenly filled with worry for her teacher and lover. What had they done to him?

"Oh, do not worry. He is fine. Just chasing shadows of this past is all." He smiled at her. "Now allow me to continue what we started weeks ago."

Ophelia knew he was preparing the Cruciatus curse for her. She braced herself as she felt the power building within him. Then she visualized Lucius's spell hitting her as nothing more than a static shock, and to her surprise the searing pain she was expecting never came. Instead, she felt the energy dissipate around her. She smiled. Her lessons were effective.

Lucius let a moment of confusion cross his face as he waved the wand again. "_Cruciatus_!"

She was not so lucky the second time, and the pain passed through her, although less powerful than the last curse that had hit her. She collapsed on to the grass. She closed her eyes tightly trying to devise a plan for escape as the voice inside her mocked her stupidity. "I know. I know," she whispered back through clenched teeth. "But how can I undo this?"

"Give it up, Miss Dyson. Your precious potions professor will not save you this time," Lucius smiled wickedly as he watched her squirm under his curse. "How much longer are you going to fight?"

Ophelia glared as defiantly as she could muster through her pain. She attempted to distract herself by getting a read on Lucius. Her probes barely skimmed the surface, however, and all she felt was raw, uninhibited power and a twisted sense of pleasure at seeing her suffer.

The pain stopped. "Give me the book!" He motioned his wand towards her satchel.

"Give it to him," the haunting voice pounded inside her thoughts and she felt the chill over her grow stronger. She tried again to ignore it, feeling crazier than ever. "You know he cannot reveal the secrets. Only you have that power now." The voice was correct. She knew the book would only yield to her, but she did not want to part with it.

"I am losing my patience, Dear." He raised his wand to strike her again and she knew he was going to cast _Imperio_. She refused to allow him to bend her will by force.

"Okay, okay. I will give." She yelled as she scrambled for her satchel. She produced the cursed grimoire and the blonde wizard snatched it from her hand.

"Call your wand," the voice commanded, and her eyes darted around the yard. There is was, about five meters away lying in the grass. Then she looked at Lucius. His greedy hands were flipping through the pages as he issued commands for it to reveal its secrets. She could feel his growing annoyance, and it pleased her.

_ACCIO WAND!_ She shouted in her head and to her surprise the wand launched into her hand. She hid it quickly in her robes just as Lucius turned to face her again.

"Tell me the secret." His eyes blazed with frustration, and she knew he would kill her at any moment.

"There is no secret. I have not read them."

Lucius's eyes narrowed. "You are lying."

"Yes, I am!" Ophelia grinned wickedly as she drew her wand from her robes. She was pleased by the flash of fear in her tormentor's eyes.

"_Fiendfyre_," shouted the voice in her ear, and without thinking Ophelia raised her wand and repeated the curse. A dark power rushed through her, and it was exhilarating. A fiery blue phoenix spilled forth from her wand. As she commanded the deadly bird she felt a chilling grip around her wrist as though something was guiding her movements.

"Feel the Dark Power," she heard softly. "See how he fears you now." It felt amazing as she watched the flames dance treacherously in front of her.

Lucius hurled himself backwards and ran. She quickly picked herself up off the ground and ran towards the house. Her blazing bird chased him momentarily until she called off the deadly flames. She turned back towards Lucius as she sensed him readying another spell. "_Expelliarmis_!" Her aim was true and the Death Eater's wand flew from his grasp.

She ran with all her power back through the front door of Spinner's End and slammed the door behind her. She felt the wards reactivate. She aimed her wand at the door. "_Protego Horriblis_," she whispered between ragged breaths. She drew the protection rune and then collapsed into one of the aged chairs and panted, wand pointed at the door.

She stared anxiously ahead, heart racing as she felt fresh tears swell in her eyes. She had used one of the dark spells that she swore never to utter. Her conscious was aching. How could she as a healer have wished such terrible things on another, even if it were Lucius Malfoy? She had just barely managed to resist the temptation of allowing the cursed flames to destroy him.

"Power comes with a price," the voice hissed as she was hit with an intense wave of nausea. She ran to the bathroom and cried some more as she released her stomach contents in to the toilet. "Now, now, you will get use to it." Ophelia gasped in shock and was overtaken with another intense vomiting spell.

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A/N: This is my favorite chapter. How about you? Thank you for the feedback.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: A Haunting Discovery

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter Universe; that honor belongs to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. I thank them for the inspiration, however. Also, this story contains sexual and other adult themes, hence the M rating.

He had no idea what he expected to find as he stepped from the fireplace. Once he realized he had been lured out of his house on false pretenses, he knew Ophelia was in grave trouble. His wand was drawn, and his heart raced.

He surveyed the sitting room. Books were everywhere. His heart sank. _Where is she?_ His eyes darted about madly searching for a clue. The door was closed and locked as were all the windows. It was impossible to apparate in or out of Spinner's End. Snape moved slowly into the kitchen, his senses on high alert.

His kitchen was also in disarray. The cupboards had been emptied. Books were open on the table with parchment covered in ink splatters and scribbled notes nearby. Edlyn was in the corner attempting to bring some order to the chaos. She looked up, startled when he entered.

"What happened here?!" He demanded. His emotions were getting the better of him which further infuriated him.

The frightened house elf let out a scared little yelp and then said, "She's gone mad, Master Snape. Tearing up the house. Scribbling strange spells. Yelling 'get away from me! Leave me in peace! Make it stop!'"

Snape swallowed hard. What could she mean? What had happened to his young lovely lover? And more importantly, when had he become so attached to the girl? "Where is she?" The house elf pointed to the hidden stairs, and he bounded up them.

He found Ophelia sitting at the top of the stairs whimpering with her hands over her ears and her knees drawn into her chest. Her robes were a mess as was her hair. Her face was tear-stained, and her skin looked sickly pale. He approached her slowly, "Miss Dyson?"

She did not respond.

He reached out and touched her shoulder. "Ophelia?"

She looked up at him; her eyes were cold and dim. He sat next to her and pulled her body close to his. She was stiff and chilled to the touch. 'What happened?"

"Make it stop…" she whispered. He then noticed the blood on her robes.

"Ophelia, what have you done to yourself?!" He grabbed the witch by the shoulders and began frantically searching her for injury, fearing the worst. He was in shock when he pulled up her sleeves to reveal the ancient runes carved deeply into her beautiful porcelain skin up and down both arms. The hideously inflamed markings oozed blood.

Snape took his wand and mumbled healing spells as he waved it over he wounds. Why had she done this to herself?

He stood up, picked her up, and brought her to the bedroom. She was still whimpering and now began to tremble in his arms. He laid her onto the bed and watched as she curled into the fetal position. He kneeled beside the bed watching her intently. She was mumbling under her breath, but he could not understand. It was almost as if she was having a conversation with someone, but no one else was there.

"No, I won't do it," he heard her say defiantly.

"Won't do what, Ophelia?" Snape begged for some response as he took her hands in his. Then he pulled away suddenly as he felt a familiar twinge in the marking on his forearm. His mind drifted as he tried to remember if he had seen the notebook or Ophelia's satchel when he had returned.

"Where is the book?!" His eyes gleamed as his voice rose suddenly unconsciously. A cold chill settled over him.

Ophelia stopped her mumbling then and stared at him. Her eyes were filled with fear and hate. "It is gone. No matter though. It is useless now." Her voice echoed strangely in his head.

"What do you mean? Have you destroyed it?" He reached out and touched her head gently. He stroked her hair. Feeling useless was not something to which he was accustomed, but at that moment he had no idea what to do for her.

"No, but its secrets are safe," she paused and appeared to be wrestling with herself. "Lucius has the book, but I control its power. It belongs to me alone." She grabbed his arm suddenly and pulled back his sleeve. Her fingers caressed the Dark Mark sending stinging pains through his being.

He pulled away, panic stricken. How had she gained power over the Dark Mark? Why would she desire such power? Why did Lucius have the notes? What was she planning?

As he watched her, her demeanor suddenly changed, and her eyes filled with tears. She sat up in the bed and met his stare. "Severus, please help me. I feel your fear, but please do not le…" Before she could finish her sentence he took her in his arms and held her close. She sobbed against him.

"Please tell me what is going on?"

"It's too much power. I cannot handle it. Just too much…I don't want it…" She trailed off and began mumbling again. Soon she was asleep in his arms. As he laid her down on the bed he whispered, "Damn you, Fate!"

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Ophelia's dreams were once again plagued by ominous images. She awoke many times and every time Snape was at her side. No matter what malicious, hateful comment her torment inspired her to make to push him away as she felt her sanity slipping from her, he still remained. _Thank the gods he still remained…_

Each time she closed her eyes evil spells were cast in her head. Her power was tingling, longing for her to whisper the words that would release it as she felt as though cold fingers were clamping down on her throat making it difficult to breathe. "You are the Master now. You have nothing to fear. You are untouchable. Let the power be your guide. Give in to it. Give in." The dark voice whispered nonstop.

When she awoke to find Snape once again at her side, she tried desperately to tell him what was happening, but she could not gather her own thoughts over the haunting voice's screams.

"Tell me, Ophelia. Let me help you." His eyes were wide, filled with fear, confusion, and frustration.

"It's too much," was all she could say to the desperate wizard and that came out in screams and tears. She rocked back and forth on the bed, hugging her knees close, trying to comfort herself.

Snape sat on the bed next to her and pulled her close against his body. She clung to the little bit of sanity remaining in order to resist the urge to push him from her as more hateful words ran through her mind.

Her newly trained ability was reading him like a book, and she tried to focus on the fact that he was finally beginning to realize he cared for her. She knew he still was wrestling with the entire concept and had not yet admitted his true feelings to even himself, but there was no denying what she sensed deep within.

"Do not be afraid, girl. This is your destiny. Give in to it. The power is yours. You have what other only dream of. Why do you resist?" The voice was eating away at her fragile nerves. "Stop resisting!"

"Just imagine the power. Imagine an army of power surrounding you at your command" Images of masked Death Eaters cloaked in darkness invaded her thoughts. To her dismay, she found the concept the slightest bit appealing. There were so many Death Eaters she wished to take revenge on for destroying her family.

"Yes, think of the revenge you could have. How sweet it would be to have the last laugh." She knew then that the owner of the menacing voice had finally penetrated her mind. Her resistance would soon fall, she feared. The voice was becoming harder and harder to ignore. Sounds of tortured screams filled her ears. The final scream belonged to her mother.

Her fists clenched in rage. How dare he manipulate her in this way! She fought to push him from her mind, but his powers were too strong. He continued to flood her with dark images of unstoppable power making the magic within her throb for release. Restraining herself was becoming almost painful.

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Snape awoke as Ophelia grasped his face forcefully and stared into his eyes with a dark, frightening intensity. Her thoughts were practically jumping into his head as he fought his urge to pry. But she held the stare until a look of desperation crossed her face. Suddenly, Snape realized that she was demanding he invade her mind.

"I can't. I mustn't!" He said softly, but she did not turn away. She looked as though she was attempting speech, but the thoughts were not there to support it. Her frustration was evident. Then she leaned in and kissed him, deep eyes still wide, locking onto his.

She had broken through his last shred of resistance. He needed to do something to end her suffering, but he could do nothing until he understood the cause. It was the only way.

Snape pulled away from the needy lip-lock and whispered the words he knew she was waiting for, "_Legilemens."_

They both gasped, and his mind was filled with her thoughts. He searched his way through the battle currently taking place between herself and a strange sinister tormentor. "Guide me," he thought and hoped she had studied the Occlumency in the text he had given her.

A flurry of images passed through his mind; her mother's face; the willow on her property; an airport; large foreign-looking, towering buildings; an American subway; Ollivander's; the doorway to the Hufflepuff dormitory; a Quidditch game; the streets of Hogsmeade; kissing a dark-haired Slytherin boy; one of the Weasley twins scantily clad; a suave-looking blond teenager also scantily clad; himself nude on her bed.

Then the flurry slowed, and the next vision to fill his head was a typical first day of first year Potions Class. The anxiety in the room was palpable. The room was silent save his own rehearsed speech, "Bewitching the mind and ensnaring the senses…."

He saw then in his mind's eyes a horrid image of Ophelia taking the small blade from her satchel and drawing it across her beautiful, creamy skin as tears poured from her eyes. She was mumbling protection charms as she gouged the runes across her forearms and watched as the blood trickled. Her desperation echoed loudly in his head.

The scene quickly morphed and a bloodcurdling scream almost took his breath away. Gwendolyn Dyson lay dead on the floor of the family's kitchen as Ophelia and her father were slumped in opposite corners crying. Two masked Death Eaters laughed coldly and quickly disappeared.

Again the scene shifted. It was the same kitchen, but this time it was Gwendolyn crying in the corner as Ophelia begged on hands and knees for her father to stop. He shook his head. "It is for your own good, I'm afraid. Someday it will all make sense. I promise you." He snapped the willow wand over his knee and Ophelia's eyes were wide with horror as the iridescent white unicorn hair fell to the ground. "Try not to mourn this temporary loss of power. The world has bigger plans for you."

Snape found himself in the kitchen yet again, the table full of familiar Death Eaters. The image of Ophelia's father was replaced by the Dark Lord himself. His dark essence was loudly ringing in Snape's ears "…Your beauty will be my reward," he hissed. Grotesque images followed by a wave of nausea came over him. "Now, now, you will get used to it." He watched as Ophelia vomited violently.

And then the kitchen was empty except for Ophelia sitting at the table. She had a stack of parchment in front of her and he could feel a glow of evil emanating from it. He also recognized the look of temptation in the girl's eyes as she placed her palm on the first page and whispered, "_Apparecium_." Words appeared under her palm. It was the Dark Lord's Grimoire.

She flipped through the pages and Snape took in the words hungrily. This was, after all, what he had been seeking all this time. The memory started to fade, but Snape pressed deeper, temptation over-ruling him. He read as she read; Unicorn blood; Philosopher's Stone; Horcruxes; Prophecies; the ghost plane; Raising the Dark Mark; the Unforgivables; _Fiendfyre_; even his own entry, _Sectusempra_.

He tried to dig deeper. There were so many questions he had. How had the Dark Lord used Harry Potter to rejuvenate his physical form? How had he cursed his journal to possess that Weasley girl? Could he remove the Dark Mark? What was written of Lily's murder?

But Ophelia had other plans, and he felt her resisting his further probes. His head was once again invaded by the strange conversation between Ophelia and the familiar male voice.

"Use the Dark Mark. Call them to you, Dear. Get your revenge. You could destroy them all. You have the power. Think of the power."

"I won't. I won't" Ophelia screamed over and over.

"Ophelia, I apologize. Please show me more," he whispered and gently squeezed her shoulders as their eyes remained locked.

Another flurry of images ran through his mind; the Yule Ball as she danced with one of the Durmstag students, his eyes full with lust and his hands edging ever lower down her back; a painful fall from her broomstick during first year; petrified students in the hospital wing at Hogwarts where she worked with Madam Pomfrey; O.W.L.s; a lifeless Cedric Diggory at the Twiwizard Tournament; her recent twisted dreams; first year potions class again, "bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death…"

He saw her then, outside of Spinner's End, wand aimed at Lucius. She watched as she turned over the notebook. He observed her fiery phoenix and was astonished at her control of such power. She ran then, disarming Lucius. He witnessed her protection charms and tortured tears in his sitting room. Finally, he heard the voice echo in her head, "Now, now, you will get used to it…"

His spell ended as reality sunk in, and her mind closed to him. He raised his wand and whispered as a shielding spell rose around them.

Ophelia's eyes widen as she glanced around the room. "It's quiet," she whispered and took a deep, cleansing breath.

"Yes." He stared at her for a long moment wondering how she remained so innocent looking despite everything she had been through. "You are being haunted."

"It is him, The Dark Lord." Her hand brushed against his forearm and Snape resisted the urge to pull away as the Mark burned beneath her fingertips. "He wants me to call them. He is possessing me, taking control slowly, invading my mind, wearing down my resistance, and filling me with darkness. I can't take much more!"

"It is not true possession really, but you are correct; he is trying to corrupt you. He is using his influence on you to accomplish something, but I am not sure what. Did you read anything about this in the notes?"

She shook her head. "There were a great many entries about ghosts, possession, and haunting, but I have no idea what he is hoping to achieve by this. I don't want to be part of this anymore!" He voice was full of despair.

"We are past the point of no return, I am afraid." Her eyes filled with tears but none fell. He had a feeling he understood what was going through her mind. When the silence became unbearable he said, "To call the Death Eaters is a powerful magic. If you succeed…"

"I know," she whispered. "But…"

"It may be the only way to get the book back." He finished knowing what she couldn't bring herself to say aloud.

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He was right. Lucius would be putty in her hands if he thought her the next all-powerful dark leader. She couldn't really be the successor, right? Why would he choose her? But she knew why; it was her ability. She had seen reference to _Hecatius Acceptum_ in the notes but hadn't understood it at the time. He must have singled her out because of that.

She felt Snape's gaze on her. She shifted uncomfortably. "You were right. I was a fool to think myself above the temptations of such power. I never should have read the notes! It's a damned how-to book for the next dark ruler. I do not wish to be that."

"But we need the book back now, and you can get it back. If Lucius believes you to be the heir of which it speaks then…"

"I know – putty in my hands."

He nodded. "You should give in to it, Ophelia. I have a plan to stop this once and for all. I believe the book's power is directly entangled with the ghost of the Dark Lord. There is only one way to truly fight a ghost, but if I am successful the book will be fallible, and we can do as we please with it." His voice was low and serious with an intensity that Ophelia had yet to experience.

"What sort of plan?" Her eyes narrowed in concern. She had seen mention of spells that would allow one to take on a ghost in Snape's texts, but they were highly dangerous. They required one to basically enter the plane of the ghost world to do so.

"_Evanescence corporal_…"

She cringed. That was the one she feared the most. "Is there no other way?" She pleaded him with her eyes.

He shook his head. "No. I do not believe we have any other options."

"But how will you return?"

"If I am successful, you can bring me back."

"And if you are not?"

"Then it matters little…"

She nodded, but deep down she was terrified and confused. If she did give in to the demands of the persistent voice in her ear, the Dark Lord himself, she may never recover, especially if Snape failed to end this haunting. He had already driven her to the edge of insanity. It would take little more to push her over.

She strained her knowledge for any other option. She could not hide behind shielding spells forever, and Voldemort had to be stopped once and for all.

"I understand," she swallowed hard as she looked down. Her eyes sought the Dark Mark on his forearm, and she stroked it. She felt Snape tense beside her, but he did not pull away. She continued to trace her fingers along the intricate pattern.

He took her chin in his hand and tilted it until her eyes met his. Then he leaned in and kissed her softly. She knew then that he had finally forgiven her. "Come, let's find you some clean robes and gather what we need. The sooner we can end this, the sooner you can be truly free."

She nodded as he helped her to stand from the bed. "And so can you…"

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A/N: Almost to the end – are you still with me? Let me know. Thank you!


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten: Enter Death

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter Universe; that honor belongs to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. I thank them for the inspiration, however. Also, this story contains sexual and other adult themes, hence the M rating.

Under the protection of the shielding spell he led her to one of the other rooms on the second floor of Spinner's End. It had been his bedroom as a child. He rarely entered it anymore. There was simply no reason to bring back such painful memories.

The room was rather tiny and felt claustrophobic to him. There was a small bed in a corner covered in grey bed sheets and a black, faded comforter. A dresser sat opposite the bed and a desk rested against the far wall. He walked to the closet and pulled the doors back. His hands wandered through the neatly hung clothes for a moment before he pulled out a set of black robes. "I believe these may be small enough to suffice for the time being." He handed her the robes, but the frown on her face told him she was not thrilled with his choice.

"Would it be too much to ask to remove the Slytherin crest?" Ophelia pouted.

On some level it amused him that she had maintained a sense of humor through all this drama, but he did not let her see that as he pointed his wand at the crest on his old Hogwarts robes. The patch fell to the ground. She pulled off her stained robes revealing her camisole and leggings. He felt is body jump at the sight as he watched her pull the dark robes on to her frame.

"They fit you well," he stated as she finished buttoning the robes. It bothered him to see her standing there in the black robes that hung loosely from her shoulders. She seemed frailer and paler and somehow altogether 'darker' now.

She smiled softly. Then she sat on his bed and sighed. Seeing her there, he couldn't help but think that if he had known her back when this room belonged to him, his life may have turned out quite differently; at least he would have liked to believe it would have, although he doubted that much could have distracted him from the path he had chosen.

"Now what?" Her eyes were full of fear as she glanced up at him from the bed.

"No sense it putting off the inevitable. I believe I have the supplies necessary…" He approached her and sat beside her on the bed.

"Yes, the potion is in your pantry, though the gods only know why you keep _that _on hand…"

"Is it not obvious?" He sighed. Of course someone that had longed for death for so long as he did would keep such a potion on stock. So many times he had removed that vial from the cupboard, held it between is fingers, even uncapped the stopper to smell its deceptively sweet scent.

She placed a hand on his thigh and gave a gentle squeeze. She then placed her head on his shoulder. "Let's get this over with then."

He stood, and she followed. "I believe we should return to your property for this. I will gather our supplies. The shielding spell will have to be dropped in order for us to apparate."

She nodded. "I know…"

"Gather your things then, and meet me in the sitting room. We will floo to Hogsmeade and apparate to your place." With that he left the room in a flurry of dark robes.

Snape stepped heavily down the staircase. He headed straight to the pantry door and opened it. He pulled out the small black opaque vial of Essence of Death, uncapped the lid, and took a long sniff of its aroma. It was just as he remembered, sickeningly alluring.

He capped the vial securely and slipped it into his robes. He did the same to another vial, this one containing an iridescent clear liquid; it was the antidote. He then moved into the sitting room.

Ophelia was already there pacing the floor. The satchel was draped over her shoulder. He did not need her abilities to feel the nervousness pouring from her.

He approached her and grabbed her by the shoulders to stop her anxious movements. He then looked into her eyes as he pressed the vial containing the antidote into her palm. He knew she understood his silent thoughts by her expression as she tucked the vial safely away within her robes.

"Are you ready?" He pulled her close as she nodded.

"Ready as I can be to lose my sanity again…" she whispered as she looked up at him.

_Damn, why is this so difficult…_Snape thought as he looked down on her. He pressed his lips into hers.

She pushed him away and smiled weakly.

He reversed the shielding spell and watched as she cringed. They then used the Floo Network to arrive in Hogsmeade before he took her again in his arms and apparated to the pasture in front of her home.

The sun was beginning its evening decent, and the sky was brightly colored in summery décor.

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Ophelia's head was spinning. She could hear the Dark Lord at her ear again. He was more persistent than ever. He must have felt her resistance falter. He must have sensed that she was about to do his bidding. She felt his icy cold hands on her body; her neck; her wrists; her abdomen. It made her tremble as she walked through the pasture towards her willow tree. Snape followed behind.

She mumbled back to her haunter as she walked. Her hand stroked the vial within her pocket as she moved. She was going to give herself over to the Dark Lord, but she mustn't forget that she was Snape's only hope of returning to the land of the living if their plan was successful. _When, not if…_

"Yes, Girl. You are finally beginning to understand. It is the only way. You must give in to it." Voldemort hissed. "We will rule the Death Eaters together, you and I. All powerful. Unstoppable. "

Ophelia tried to tune the voice out, but the Dark Lord's soft enticements were slowly getting to her once again. He filled her mind with images of her commanding dark armies of Death Eaters. The people she despised most in this world were bending to her will at the slightest mention from her lips. And every being around her was an open book to her abilities. People were afraid to say her name like it would set their tongues on fire at the mere utterance. These images both repulsed and thrilled her at the same time. She was the new Dark Ruler.

Finally she stopped at the base of the willow tree and glanced around at her surroundings. She hoped that by choosing this spot she would be able to cling to enough sanity to remember her true mission. Snape placed a hand on her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. No words were necessary.

It still amazed her that he was the same man she had been intimidated by so many years ago, and also how quickly his walls had fallen. She still felt guilty for involving him in this fight, but she knew that she would not be successful without his assistance.

He rolled up the sleeve of his robe and presented his arm to her. Ophelia stared into Snape's eyes as she stroked her fingers over his forearm. "I am sorry," she whispered softly as she pressed her wand against the Dark Mark.

The foreign voice within her head whispered the powerful words as she repeated them. She felt the energy surge from her and into her wand. Snape cringed as his body tensed beside her.

Ophelia's eyes stayed locked onto his as he placed the black vial to his lips and drank the elixir down in one quick swallow. "_Evanescence corporal…" _he whispered with his wand pressed to his own chest.

His body fell limp at her feet just as she sensed the arrival of the first Death Eater's. She caressed the vial within her pocket as she took a deep breath. The Dark Lord congratulated her for her decision. She shuddered. There was no turning back now.

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It did not feeling anything like what he had expected it to. In fact, he did not feel all that different at all. If it wasn't for his own slumped, lifeless form lying at his feet, he would have doubted the spell even worked.

His wand was in his hand as he glanced around. He could see the world which he had left as a haze around him. Ophelia stood, wand drawn, in the center of a circle of masked Death Eaters. She looked crazed, and even through the haze he saw her dark sapphire eyes had dimmed and shadowed like the full moon that was just beginning to rise.

"Thank you all for your quick response as I can imagine my call comes as quiet a shock to most of you…"

Then he saw him, the Dark Lord. He stood over Ophelia, his lips at her ear and one hand caressing her wand and down her arm and the other around her waist. The sight sickened him. He raised his wand.

"Get away from her!" He struggled to remain in control. He was unsure what Voldemort was capable of doing to Ophelia in this phantom state. Even without a wand or physical body, he was sure to be very powerful and very dangerous.

The Dark Lord's eyes glowed fiercely as he turned them on Snape. "Ah, Severus," he hissed in a low voice. "So, I finally learn the truth of your loyalty. And to think, all this time…"His glare was almost painful.

"Power is not everything, I have learned."

"Perhaps not," Voldemort's eyes narrowed and with a flick of his fingers Snape felt his wand leave his grasp. "But it certainly helps." He laughed darkly. "I must thank you, Severus. Your appearance expedited my plans rather nicely." His reptilian fingers stroked across Ophelia's cheek as he leaned in close to her. "Lovely, isn't she?"

She seemed completely unaware as she spoke to the men and women surrounding her. "The power of the Dark Lord lives on. Your loyalty will be rewarded." Her eyes glanced around the circle. "And your disobedience will be punished." Her wand motioned to the crumpled form of Snape's body.

Snape felt a chill down his spine. Even through the haze he sensed Ophelia was not merely acting. She had finally given in. Her dark nature was now in control.

"It is a pity she never trusted you enough to allow you access to my records, or you may have understood before it was too late."

"What do you want with her?!" There was a hint of desperation in his tone. His jaw was tight with rage.

"The same thing you do, my Old Friend." His hand swept down the witch's shoulder to caress down her flank and came to rest on her hip. "Her body." He licked his lips. "And the power that is within..."

His hand moved to stroke her abdomen softly, almost lovingly. "I hand selected this little beauty the first time I saw her. I sensed her abilities then and knew she would be a perfect companion once I asserted my rule." Then Voldemort leaned in to the girl's ear again whispering.

Snape could see her wand was fixed on Lucius. He was waiting for her to take control of the book before he made his move on her tormentor. His eyes searched for his wand and he found it resting a short distance away from the Dark Lord's feet.

He stared as Lucius convulsed with pain. Ophelia was taking vengeance. It was clear from the look in her eyes that having mercy was not an option as her mouth curled into a twisted smile. Lucius fell to his knees. She laughed as she released the curse. "Where is the book, Lucius?"

Snape returned his attention to Voldemort. "Yes, she does have certain irresistible charms," he admitted.

"That is precisely the reason I convinced her father to lock her away all those years. I could not have her spoiled before I was ready for her. A treasure like this would not remain unclaimed for long. I also ensured her access to my notes. No one can resist such knowledge for long. I knew once she had been exposed her darker side would be much easier to take advantage of. "

From the corner of his eye Snape saw Lucius collapse again in pain. It would have been a pleasant sight to behold if not for Ophelia standing over him. Instead, he felt nauseous.

"A lovely plan, but foiled in the end it seems," he questioned as he craved more details while the Dark Lord seemed to feel rather verbose, and Lucius still possessed the damn book. _Hurry up, Ophelia, My Dear…_

"Yes, my ideal plan was indeed destroyed in part thanks to yourself I believe." His slitted eyes shot daggers at him. "But you have redeemed yourself by securing my Plan B."

"Oh?" Snape raised a black eyebrow.

"You have given me a second chance to accomplish what I desire. Soon, I will have new life, and then I shall be unstoppable. All thanks for your insatiable desire and surprising… virility…" He smiled wickedly as he patted Ophelia's abdomen softly.

Snape's eyes widened as this new information set into his consciousness.

"With genes like these, I will have powers greater than ever before. It must be such an honor to have brought about my second coming."

"NO!" Snape shouted with wrath as he dived for his wand. Snape did not know how he intended to do it, but it was now clear that the man he wished nothing more than a painful, miserable death was planning to reincarnate himself as the child currently developing in Ophelia's womb; his child.

He did not have adequate time to process the full magnitude of this information nor did he even have time to contemplate its validity. Surely, the girl had the Contraceptus Charm placed on her years ago like most young witches.

Snape heard the menacing laugh of the Dark Lord as he aimed his wand again. "She will not bear the child if she discovers your plan."

"Ha! I have her so brainwashed that she would not even consider doing otherwise." The tone of his voice softened then. "Go back to her, Severus. Think of it. The two of you could lead the Death Eaters back to glory until the time that I retake command. She will need you by her side. You have already trained her beautifully. Her powers are quite remarkable."

Snape felt his opponent attempt to disarm him again, but this time he was prepared. His thoughts were racing. A part of him found the suggestion appealing. He could have Ophelia as well as the power he so dearly hungered after.

Two months ago he would have accepted the offer without a second thought. But now…He glanced at Ophelia, still seemingly unaware of anything taking place between himself and the Dark Lord. Did she enjoy the power? Would she want more? What of her aspirations?

"Open the book, Lucius," Ophelia commanded, her voice threatening and confident. Her wand was focused on the wizard hunched over before her. She pressed her wand to the page Lucius presented to her. The words quickly developed across the page, and the blond wizard's eyes widened as he read. "Yes, it is true. You must now serve me or suffer the punishment of disloyalty." She laughed.

She looked around the circle; her eyes were fierce. "Anyone not willing to continue what Lord Voldemort started?" Not one person even dared to take a breath. "Good!" She tore the book from Lucius's grasp in a sudden but smooth movement. He cowered from her.

She then glanced down at Snape's lifeless form, pausing for a long moment as her demeanor momentarily softened, and she allowed her eyes to scan the area. "Good girl," Voldemort whispered in her ear. "Look how he now fears us, My Dear."

Snape felt a complicated mix of emotions boiling up within him suddenly as he watched the ghost of the Dark Lord caressing Ophelia's body again. "ENOUGH! You won't steal her from me too!" He contemplated how to strike him without risking harm to her.

"Still bitter about that, are you Severus?" Voldemort's reptilian features twisted in pleasure as they formed a malicious smile.

Snape laughed as the words filled his thoughts. His conscious now remembered something he had seen while exploring Ophelia's precious thoughts; a spell in the Dark Lord's own writing. He knew then that they were designed exactly for a moment like the one before him.

"_Mortem obire!"_ Snape shouted and dispelled every ounce of energy he could find within his own spectral being through his wand aimed directly at his nemesis's chest.

Weakness fell over Snape then as he heard the agonizing scream of the Dark Lord. He collapsed to his knees as he stared. The figure haunting the woman he had grown so fond of faded before his eyes. The glowing eyes were the last to disappear as they stared longingly at Ophelia.

A disturbing thought occurred to him then – what if Ophelia's feelings towards him had all been manifestations of the Dark Lord's master plan? Would their relationship fade along with the ghost of Voldemort?

Then Snape's world went dark…

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It was silent. There were no more screams, no more whispers, and no more icy fingers against her body; just the circle of masked Death Eater's watching her anxiously and silently. She was in control. They would do anything she asked, even die for her, she sensed that easily.

Her ability was more discriminating than ever. She knew exactly who hid under each grotesque mask and why they had come to her. She wanted to destroy each of them, one by one, in an angry rampage. The spells hung on the tip of her tongue as she savored the thoughts. It was everything the Dark Lord had promised and more.

Her hand then brushed against the vial in her pocket, and her thoughts returned to Snape. "You are dismissed," she hissed at them all with one last disdainful glare down at Malfoy. The Death Eater's disappeared as quickly as they had come.

She suddenly felt herself hyperventilate as she struggled to breathe, and her heart pounded as all of her confidence seemed to drain out like puddles at her feet. She knelt on the ground next to Snape's body. She sensed nothing from him and felt no pulse at his wrist.

She rolled the man over to his back and tilted his head as she placed the vial to his lips. She allowed the thick shimmering liquid to drip into his mouth as she kept one hand in place on his wrist searching for a returning pulse. Her mind felt empty as she counted the seconds anxiously. She feared the worst.

She sensed his energy before she felt his pulse as she let out a large sigh of relief. He had returned from the realm of death. She waited patiently, chewing her lower lip, as he pulse slowly strengthened.

Finally, his eyes fluttered open, and his hand squeezed hers gently. "Oh thank the gods, Severus." She smiled down at him.

He sat up suddenly and stared into her eyes. "How are you feeling?" From his overly concerned tone, she could sense that there was a deeper meaning behind the words.

"What do you mean – how am I? You are the one that just returned from death. How are you feeling?"

"Humor me, Ophelia, and answer the question." His gaze was intense as he looked her over quickly.

"What has gotten in to you? Did something happen? You did destroy him didn't you?"

"Yes. He is gone; hopefully permanently this time. You do not still feel his presence do you?" His eyes wandered to her abdomen, and suddenly she understood his concern.

"No." She smiled weakly.

There was a long awkward silence, and then Snape reached for the notebook that lay on the ground beside him. "And this?"

"Nothing more than a pile of parchment now." She took it from him and flipped through the pages. The words were no longer hidden. She tore a page from the book and handed it to him and watched as his eyes widened.

"You knew?!" He handed the entry back, and she glanced at it again.

_Soul Switching – may be accomplished while inhabiting the ghost plane if, and only if, the spirit is present at the time of a developing fetus's first heartbeat within the womb. To do so will displace the incoming soul into the ghost plane and may lead to a lifetime of haunting from the displaced soul. The risks of Soul Switching include potential loss of previous powers as well as some or all memories of past life. The soul is limited by the capabilities of its new physical form and it is currently unknown what effects soul switching has on personality and beliefs…_

"No. I just figured it out. I remember this entry, but it never concerned me. But once I regained the book from Lucius, I felt the Contraceptus Reversal hex on it. I had somehow missed it before." She stared down at the grass too uncomfortable to make eye contact with those piercing eyes. Her cheeks burned as she flushed. She was sure Snape could see it in the bright moonlight.

There was another long silence. Ophelia then set the book before them and aimed her wand at it. "_Imcendia!"_ The pages sparked and then slowly caught fire. Snape reached his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close as they watched the blaze consume the cursed manuscript. "We succeeded," she whispered softly.

He kissed her forehead softly. "I hope you will still see fit to keep me around. I believe I have grown rather fond of you over these past several weeks, Ophelia."

"I know," she laughed softly. "The feelings are mutual. I only wish you could feel them the way I can feel yours."

Snape let out a small quick chuckle of a laugh. "An extraordinary thing, Fate…" Snape whispered under his breath as the two fell back on to the soft grass and stared up at the starry night.

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A/N: **Mortem obire = meet death. ** Please help me improve on this piece. What did you think of Ophelia's character? How was my interpretation of the canon characters? What was the best and worst parts of the story? Thank you!


	11. Epilogue

In early March of the following spring, Moira Eileen Dyson was welcomed into the world. Much to the relief of her anxious parents, she had ten fingers, ten toes, and a spirit uniquely her own.

It had been a difficult pregnancy. If the constant worry about potentially harboring the reincarnation of the Dark Lord had not been enough stress, the dreadful morning sickness compounded with the incessant doting of the father-to-be was enough make Ophelia crazier than she had been during the height of her haunting. Snape insisted she move to Spinner's End for the duration of the pregnancy, fearing that the Death Eaters would come looking for her at her family's property.

Ophelia had been in denial about the conception at first. While she had not planned to become a mother at this particular stage in her life, she found it impossible to deny Snape his opportunity for offspring.

"I am terrified, Professor."

"You may drop the formalities, Ophelia. I hope you will be able to see me as more than just your former potions professor and allow me to support you…" Snape paused as he broke eye contact with her. "In whatever you should choose…"

Ophelia's abilities decreased after her haunting ended, but she could still sense the aching behind the words. She wanted nothing more than to run far away and start over, but his words made her reconsider. After several days of deep contemplation beneath the willow tree she made up her mind to continue the pregnancy, but her fears continued. Her dreams were still inundated with visions of Voldemort, and the temptations of the dark power she had once given in to.

Being cooped up together in the small row house made for quick tempers and short fuses.

"Honestly, Severus, I do not understand why I can't go to my appointment alone. Do you not trust me to return?"

"Of course I trust you. It is everyone else that makes me uncomfortable." He paused for a moment. "Besides, you know how much this all fascinates me."

Ophelia sighed. "I know. However, I haven't had a moment away from you in over four months! I need some space." She threw her arms in the air in annoyance. She went from complete absence of human contact while stuck on magical house arrest to not being able to find a moment to herself. It was too much for her to handle.

"Do not be upset. It isn't healthy," he replied softly. He tried to put his arms around her, but she pushed him away and rolled her eyes in response. "Fine, go by yourself if you wish." He turned to leave the room.

"Wait! I want you to be there. Please join me."

He shook his head and placed one hand at his temple, gently rubbing. "Must we really endure five more months of this absurdity?" She responded with a piercing, angry glare.

"Stop fretting about it," Snape told her in a silky smooth voice when he walked in on her in front of the mirror once again scrutinizing her ever-rounding abdomen.

"Easy for you to say!" She looked away so that he could not see the tears welling up in her eyes.

He cornered her and took her forcibly into his arms. "You are foolish to find anything but beauty and power in this form." His hands drifted across her swollen shape.

She sighed as she relaxed into him. "I know…"

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Snape was relieved to find that Ophelia no longer had control over the Dark Mark. In fact, the Mark had faded progressively over the past six months. He hoped that the other Death Eaters were finding the same thing.

He was beginning to get impatient. Waking Ophelia from her nightmares each night to comfort her was only highlighting how slowly the days were moving. Each new morning brought him momentary guilt as he wondered if she felt obligated to go through this tribulation for him. Nonetheless, there were moments that made up for it all.

"Oh… wow…" Ophelia exclaimed stopping in her tracks one morning as she descended the stairs for breakfast.

"What is it?" He made no attempt to hide his concern as he jumped onto the same step and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Feel!" She quickly grasped his hand and placed it onto her abdomen. He felt nothing unusual, but she forced his hand to remain in place. Then he gasped as he felt the light bump against his palm.

"Incredible…" he whispered as emotions threatened to overwhelm him.

Nothing about their situation had been straightforward. Because he preferred that the world still believed him dead, they rarely left his home. On the rare occasions that they did venture out they often employed a disillusionment charm, and he would use the Dyson surname when necessary to avoid awkward stares. It had taken him weeks to locate a magical midwife that he not only trusted but felt would not recognize him. Furthermore, she consistently refused his offers to make her his wife.

"I am not going to marry you simply to keep up appearances, Severus. Besides, you're dead, remember?"

"That is not the point," he replied softly, holding back his frustration.

"Then what is the point?" She rolled her eyes and sighed. It was moments like these that reminded him of the age difference between them.

"The point is that it is what you deserve."

"How romantic…" her voice dripped with sarcasm as she left the room.

He sighed.

"You will be an amazing father," she whispered to him one morning as they lay together in bed enjoying the warm sunlight through the window with their hands on her growing bump.

"Did you have your doubts?" He raised an eyebrow wondering what had inspired her seemingly random comment.

"Not at all, but I sense that you have had some recently," her hand stroked his arm softly.

It still disturbed him how well she could read him. "You are correct." The closer the impending birth came, the stronger his doubts became. Now with less than a month to go, he was almost in a constant state of self-doubt.

"Time will prove me right. Try not to worry." She smiled.

Finally the day arrived. After Ophelia endured nearly 8 hours of painful contractions, Snape was feeling guiltier than ever, but she only laughed when he expressed his thoughts to her. After almost an hour of difficult pushing however, she admitted that he should feel guilty. This time he laughed at her.

Once the birthing process had ended and the new baby was safely tucked into her mother's arms, Snape looked at Ophelia and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. "Marry me," he asked as he pleaded her with his eyes.

She sighed. She was clearly exhausted which he was hoping would work to his advantage. He looked down at their child and back at her. "Stop being so stubborn."

"Take me away somewhere where we don't have to live in hiding."

"I have already arranged a wonderful place in South France should you wish it…"

Her eyes widened, and she stared down at the dark-haired newborn in her arms. "How did you know I would say yes?"

"Are you saying yes?"

"Yes, of course," she laughed.

"Then it matters not," he grinned.

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A/N: The "Moirae" are the three Moon-Goddess Sisters of Fate in Greek Mythology so Moira (Moy-rah) means "fate", and it is also conveniently Celtic for "dark-haired."

Thank you to all who reviewed or private messaged me about this story. I appreciate all the feedback, even the criticism. Please keep it coming. I promise to be a good sport. Also, let me know if there are any loose ends hanging about that you would like to see tied up. Thank you all again!


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